ANToT: The Devil's Bounty
by Everybody'sGrudge
Summary: As he continues his quest for vengeance against the criminals who so wronged him in his youth, the worlds first PokéMercenary must stop a plot that goes beyond his personal quest. Rating due to escalating violence/language.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer & Discussion: I don't own Pokémon blah blah. I said this in the first story of the series. Speaking of which, this story is part of my "A New Type of Trainer" series, and takes place after my first entry "The Tragic Youth Where It All Began." This story could technically be enjoyed without reading that one, but if you want the full story you should read that one first._

_Some additional warning, this story will feature more violence than the previous entry, as well as some fantasy drug use (that is to say, the use of drugs that do not really exist). There will also be much more dialog, and not all of it will be friendly, and some sexual innuendo/events could turn up (nothing explicit though, this will not be a lemon). For that reason I've decided to upgrade the rating from T to M just to be safe. _

_A New Type of Trainer:_

_The Devil's Bounty_

Chapter One: A New Lead

It was a windy evening, with a gorgeous sunset painting the foothills of Mt. Coronet where I stood on a small stone outcropping. I had positioned myself there for the view of the area, there is no shortage of potentially dangerous Pokémon in those mountains. As a side effect, my long black coat billowed beautifully in the stiff wind, which I appreciated even if no one was around to observe. In my line of work it pays to look ominous. The scowl on my face probably bumped me up from "ominous" to "malevolent," however. I'd been there for over an hour, waiting for a contact.

Spitpyre, my loyal Blaziken, seemed to share my impatience. He was out of his Pokéball, standing at my back to watch the rocky slopes so we'd see trouble coming from any direction. I could feel warmth radiating from his direction, frustration has a tendency to make him flare up. A quiet croak let me know he'd rather be kicking another Absol in the face than standing around doing nothing.

"Don't take it too hard big guy," I said over my shoulder. "You remember, he does this every time. Grumbling about it won't make him show up any faster." The kickboxing chicken didn't sound particularly comforted by the reminder, but he silenced himself and returned to warily scanning the hills around us. We'd already had to smash through a small flock of Golbat while passing through a cavern, two Gravellers, and one extremely ornery Medicham in order to reach the area specified for the meeting.

I was halfway through a scan of the area to my left when I noticed a large round rock that hadn't been there during my last sweep just moments prior. I tensed, nudging my Pokémon with an elbow to get his attention. Spitpyre has been leading my team in battle for years, it took him only a moment to figure out what had changed by following the direction of my gaze. I held him back from attacking, while the newly appeared stone could be a sneaky Geodude, it hadn't attacked yet. And my contact had some rather odd habits.

"Greetings, Devil!" called an exuberant voice, full of enthusiasm even pitched as it was in a stage whisper that wouldn't carry much past Spitpyre and myself. The Blaziken relaxed, knowing there was no threat the moment that oddly enthusiastic voice spoke. How strange this might have looked had anyone been there to see it, a talking rock is not something you see often. We ambled over to the rock, all appearances making it seem that we were in no hurry despite our recent frustration.

"Looker, you need a new hobby," I said with a chuckle. Mock him as I did, the guy is good, even up close the stone appeared no different from the dozens of others nearby. "It seems a bit extreme to call a meeting way out here, where there are no observers, and then come in a disguise like that to boot."

"No such thing as too much precaution," he said from inside the shell that comprised his costume. "You know the agency doesn't like us being seen talking to you," he chided me gently. I don't mind their desire to distance themselves from me much, I'm just shy of being a criminal myself at times. Hell, I was a vigilante, technically, before I started collecting bounties on wanted criminals. The police have no desire to get just anyone started on bounty hunting, nor do they like to appear incapable to the public. That's where Looker came into the picture, the International Police assigned him the task of dealing with me, a go-between of sorts for when they had a job that suited my talents.

"You might be right, but really this still seems like overkill. But hey, you know my opinion on overkill," I replied to his teasing tone, patting the hilt of my sword for emphasis. Though I wasn't sure he could see me in that disguise. "There's no such thing," we said together, and then shared a laugh, Spitpyre joining in with the crowing squawk that serves as laughter in his species. "Besides, if you really wanted to make sure no one figured out you were meeting me for business you'd stop calling meetings here," I said, indicating the area. Looker was involved fairly heavily in the fight against Team Galactic back in their day, even personally arresting their second leader Charon when the old man tried to reorganize the group as gangsters rather than cultists. Possibly as a result of his presence when Ex-Sinnoh Champ Lucas took on Team Galactic at the Spear Pillar atop the peaks, he's very fond of Mt. Coronet. He's got some quirks for sure, but that makes him amusing. He and his Croagunk are not half bad in a fight either, though like many police officers he's just too soft on his foes to be really dangerous.

"True enough, I suppose I really should switch up the location a bit more often," he replied, sounding thoughtful. The man takes the weirdest things seriously, and defines serious very differently than I. Hell, he once met me at the Pokémon Daycare over in Solaceon while disguised as a Nidoking. The man can take anything seriously in the goofiest ways.

"Well, what did you need to talk to me about that was too sensitive to discuss over the PokéGear?" I asked, indulging my remaining frustration a bit. "I'm on the job at the moment you know, that rich asshole from Sunnyshore is paying me to track down a Mareep that escaped from his daughter," I reminded him. "Probably would have turned him down, but the kid was heartbroken. Wasn't her fault, she was battling an Electibuzz outside of town and the damn thing stepped on her Pokéball just as it released her little pet. Electricity bypassed the insulation in the housing and fried the system, ball stopped registering the Pokémon. Thing panicked and ran for the hills, probably thought she'd released it on purpose."

"That's a sad tale," the rock replied. I'd done this song and dance with Looker before but let me tell you, it takes a lot to get used to conversing with all the nonsense he dresses up as. "I can see why you took that job, your heart is always in the right place where children are concerned," he mused, half to himself. A pang went through my heart, images of a burned, dying Treecko stabbing into my mind. Looker knows a little about my past, though I've kept it private from the rest of his agency. He should be honored to know that much, he doesn't even know my name, which he doesn't take personally. No one knows my real name. Besides, Looker is a codename too, I have no idea what his real name is either. "It's a difficult thing, tracking down one specific Pokemon that has been released, on purpose or otherwise. I hate to take any time away from your goal, but you'll want this bounty," he said, tone going serious now. The rock rolled backwards a bit, revealing a file folder Looker had somehow managed to deposit underneath it.

"Unless its someone particularly nasty, I think I'll pass," I began, reaching down to pluck up the manilla folder to at least humor him. "The guy I'm working for offered enough to pay the rent on my office for a full year, and I don't wanna let the kid…" I trailed off, spotting the name on printed on the folder. "Down," I managed to say in a near whisper as a dark fire, never really dead, sprang to full life again. Spitpyre heard the tone of my voice and croaked in response. He knows when I want something dead. Luckily, he's smart enough not to conclude I meant Looker.

The name on that folder? Arabella Ragno. I knew before I opened it that inside the file would be an image of an attractive redhead with a faded facial scar. The info listed with it would state the woman in that mugshot had a prior arrest in Kanto on charges of theft, assault, and attempted murder. Word had it she was also tied in some way to a protection racket in Celadon City at one time, as well as a prostitution ring. It would also note she escaped custody before trial with the assistance of fellow Team Rocket grunts, presumably ordered or at least approved by their boss. I knew the file would state that she had fled the country soon after for Johto, staying loyal to Team Rocket right up to the date they disbanded the second time. I'd cobbled together my own file on her since learning her name. "You found her? You have a location?" I asked, tearing the folder in my haste to get it open.

"Indeed, we have reliable intelligence from an informant who works at the new place I told you about in Jubilife. He claims that she has set up an operation somewhere in the Jubilife area, though he was unable to explain what the purpose of that operation is. I wanted to investigate directly, but my superiors stated that this might be out of my league," he said, grumbling a bit. While I agreed with them regarding Looker battling any of the trainers I remembered from my worst childhood trauma, I had to agree with him in that investigating quietly was well within his level of competence. They really should have let him at it, but I wasn't complaining. The intel might have been useful, but I'd have chafed waiting a second longer to start hunting her. "You know as well as I what her past suggests she might be up to. We want you to track her down and bring her in," he said, a subtle emphasis flavoring his speech that clearly said without additional words "Don't kill her."

I scoffed at that. Spitpyre went even further, letting out the same terrifying snarl he'd have used at the start of a fight. His toe-talons flexed menacingly, gouging deep furrows in the stone he stood on. Whether he had visual on us or not, Looker let out an audible gulp before I soothed the fighting bird down.

"So its not a dead or alive bounty then," I said, not dancing around the subject as he had. "You know I can't make any promises about that. If she puts up too much of a fight, she may not leave me much choice." I held up a hand and spoke further to forestall any reply, continuing with "But I'll try. I want information on her partners anyway, and she can't give me that if Spitpyre has cooked her up and fed her to Bruce." A grim smile flavored my words. I'd just told Looker I would try to let one of my hated enemies live, true. But I never once said I wouldn't have her maimed and crippled before I brought her in.

"Alright, you're hired then. Remember, you kill the suspect you blow your payday," Looker said, more sombre than I'd ever heard him in the past. He knew I didn't do this job for the money alone. "Get to work, PokéMercenary," he called to me as I recalled Spitpyre and sent out my Staraptor to take flight.

I walked into my office without bothering with the lights, though it was quite dark by the time I arrived. I don't keep much in there, just a desk with a PC, a couple of file cabinets, a coffee machine on a small corner table, a coat rack in the opposite corner nearest the door, and a couple of comfy chairs for clients. With so little filling the relatively spacious office it had been easy to get a feel for moving through it in dim light, and I didn't plan to be there long. A couple of steps in I snagged my travel pack from the coat rack. I keep a number of useful items in my coat at all times, but hunting down Arabella could take longer than its capacity could handle. I checked the bag's contents by touch as I crossed the room, making sure I had adequate healing items, antidotes and the like. Then I stepped up to the map that hangs beside my one window.

I was able to make out the map, if only just barely, by diffused light from the window. Jubilife City, home of the Pokétch Company, Jublife TV, and any number of less well known businesses lay to the southwest of my office in Eterna City. I knew where it was, of course, having been there many times since I moved to Sinnoh, but that wasn't why I stopped to look. I was studying the surrounding area, taking note of potential hideouts and residences I knew of nearby the city. Nothing really jumped out at me, but I made sure to scribble notations to check on a few locations using the Memo Pad app on my Pokétch. That about covered my needs, except informing my other client there might be further delays in completing his job. I decided that could wait, he knew finding his daughter's missing Pokémon would be a lengthy process already, and I'd ring him up on my PokéGear if need be. That left travel to Jubilife as my only concrete task, so I locked up on my way out, already palming Big Bird's Pokéball for use.

Travel by air is an odd experience, though I'd long since gotten used to it. At least Big bird was large enough to ride astride her, so long as I kept myself prone to cut wind resistance. I shudder for those poor people still flying with the assistance of smaller Flying-types, dangling from tiny talons. Even though they're plenty strong enough to pull it off, that always looked uncomfortable to me, especially those poor souls flying on a Natu. It was less pleasant than usual on this trip, the wind was still blowing strong as we took to the air. It sped the trip along a bit, since it was blowing from the direction of Mt. Coronet towards the western coast, but that had the side effect of causing my coat to constantly billow against my back. I was shivering within a few moments, but I ignored it and focused my mind on forming a plan of action.

This was hardly the first time I had been asked to track someone down. A decent chunk of my living comes from bounty hunting, with the occasional runaway teen or lost child for good measure. On the other hand, I'd been hunting the Ex-Rocket and her cohorts, with varying degrees of effort, since I was 17. I'd never had any success before, so despite finally having somewhere to pick up the trail I suspected strongly that I'd hit another dead end if I didn't work this case the smart way. As Big Bird started to descend, I thought I had a first step in mind.

I got an early start the next day. By the time we landed in the city's designated area (directly in front of the Pokémon Center as usual) it had been close to midnight. Not the worst time for finding people of a less than legal persuasion, but I'd also spent most of the previous day hiking through woodlands and rocky foothills, battling and searching. Their unique qualities make it possible to rejuvenate Pokémon almost instantly with the right technology, but sleep is the only thing that will do for a human.

Refreshed and alert, I left the hotel where I spent the night and started across town towards the location of Jubilife's newest attraction, a small gambling establishment. Game Corners, as such establishments are known, are a controversial business in any region, particularly since they often allow kids to come in and blow every penny they own as surely as they allow adults to do the same. They're normally limited to one successful location per region due to the difficulty of getting one off the ground, and its not unheard of for them to have criminal ties even after they reach a sustainable level of business. Kanto's Game Corner nearly went out of business after their status as a Team Rocket front came to light, and smart decisions by the new management had only barely saved it. Sinnoh already had a decently successful Corner in Veilstone City, so it seemed unlikely this smaller business would take off if history was to be believed. I didn't care much if they made it or not, I knew Looker's informant was there.

The place was, to be blunt, kind of a dump. It had been renovated from an old warehouse not far from from JTV's global uplink broadcast tower, and aside from some flashing lights on the sign out front it still looked like it should be full of crates and barrels rather than gaming opportunities. Two doors led inside, one to the prize exchange area, the other into the casino area proper. I took the door on the left inside, scanning the faces of everyone present. I'd have liked to have one of my Pokémon walking free with me in case of hostility, but sadly that tends to be frowned upon in this sort of place. Too many people try to cheat using their mons, and violence is easier to contain with the few extra moments it takes to throw a ball at your disposal. They probably wouldn't have liked my katana either, but I had it thrust nearly vertically through my obi, not so much as tenting my trenchcoat as I ambled in.

The interior still smelled like a warehouse, dusty and dank. The floors were bare wooden planks, faded and scuffed in many places. The ceiling was lower than I'd expected, oppressively so. It had the necessary showy lights and bells in place, but even they looked cheap and poorly maintained. This was not the sort of environment that made people want to stick around and gamble. Whoever owned this joint was sure to go out of business in a hurry.

Business was not booming, which would be no real surprise this early in the day even in a fancier establishment. A bored money changer sat behind a wire cage, waiting to turn money into gaming coins. A security guard in a dingy uniform sat on a stool at the rear of the room. Only two customers were in evidence, both blue-haired old women playing the slots. I spotted the man I had come in to see after some searching, presiding over a roulette table. He was short, with a tangled gray beard and a few missing teeth, wearing an ugly floral shirt and drab slacks. He was not pleasant to look at, but I wasn't in this place to enjoy myself.

"Marty?" I asked quietly as I loomed up over him. He'd been idly spinning the wheel to amuse himself, when he saw me coming he dropped the ball onto it. It didn't land right, the wheel sent it spinning off to clack off of the nearby wall. The security man was eyeing me suddenly, but I ignored him. "We need to talk."

"Who're you?" he asked, voice slurred. His breath carried the rancid stench of Gloom pollen, which is often used in battle to perform Poison Powder due to its toxic qualities, mixed with the slightly less rotten scent of Gloom nectar. I sneered with distaste, I knew of only one reason why someone would purposely ingest even heavily diluted Gloom secretions. Several Grass and Poison-type Pokémon (as well as a few Bug-types) secrete toxins that can, in the proper amounts, have any number of effects. They can be hallucinogenic, narcotic, they can act as stimulants or depressants. They can get you high as a soaring Pidgeot, is what I'm saying. The effect can be amplified by having the spores and seeds bombarded by a Psychic-type using Psybeam, infusing the product with the trippy confusion that that technique causes. A mix of Sleep, Stun, and Poison Powders that has been through this treatment while in a liquid base is the most popular, called Nectarz on the streets. It's illegal as all hell to make, use, or sell these products of course, but also highly difficult to police. The government refuses to ban trainers from owning the types associated with this drug manufacture, and rightly so, but as long as they are allowed there is really no way to stop the abuse of their abilities. That alone was enough to disgust me, but Marty took it a step further. Most people prefer Pokémon like Parasect or Carnivine, which are both potent and sweet smelling. Exeggutor is a favorite in that trade due to its dual types, it can use Psywave to amplify its own spores and seeds for the best effect. No one would use Gloom, unless they were desperate or masochistic. Or both. But it did lend credence to his intel, in a way. A man into "herbalism" of this sort would be in a position to learn something about local crime.

"They call me Devil," I said, passing one of my business cards across to him. "I hear from Looker you know something about Arabella Ragno," I said, voice dropping to a whisper too quiet to carry over the clacking of slot machines behind me. "I want to make sure you told him everything, he's awfully trusting sometimes for a secret agent."

"Wha…? Devlin? I dunno no Devlin, place a bet or get out," was his reply. Fucker was too stoned to understand me, even my name. That annoyed me. I reached out to put a hand on his shoulder, meaning to give him a shake for good measure, but found myself preempted. The security guard dropped his own greasy hand onto my shoulder and gave me a shake before I could lay a finger on Marty, trying to force me to turn around. I considered resisting on principle, but he wasn't likely to give up.

"I'm trying to have a conversation here, do you mind?" I asked in a low snarl. I was frustrated, years of searching with no progress and now this just as I was getting somewhere. Always with the delays.

"You don't converse with the employees with your hands, sir," the guard said, somehow removing from his voice any of the respect the word sir would normally carry. "And you haven't bothered to stop by the coin exchange yet, which means you ain't gambling. I'm gonna have to ask you to leave," he continued, and I noticed that when he wasn't slumping in a chair he was actually a pretty big guy, roughly my height and stout with it, if also a little doughy around the middle. He also had on a thick leather belt with three clips for Pokéballs on his right hip, and he had his hand on that hip. The message was clear, he didn't have a ball in his hand but he could get one in a hurry if he needed it.

"I'm only going to say this once," I growled. "Take your hand off me and walk. I'm in no mood for this, you pick a fight with me and I won't go easy." I eased my left hand down to grip the lapel of my coat, steadying it so I could snag one of my own Pokéballs in a hurry if need be. That was when the beefy guard decided to sucker punch me.

I jerked backward from the waist, the punch sailing just past my chin, and shot my left foot out to hook the guard's ankle. When I straightened from my dodge, I yanked my foot back, sending him tumbling to the floor. I was surprised when he managed a sloppy roll, coming to his feet and throwing the first ball in the same motion. That was interesting, I had figured this place for something shady from the moment I came in but he was sending a single mon in accordance with League rules of engagement. Unless he was just overconfident. The ball opened in midair, spilling out a jagged bolt of red energy which quickly solidified to show me a Pelipper, its wings opening and flapping forcefully to hover before me. It let out a brief cry, almost a grunt, keeping an even distance between me and its trainer.

"Very poor choice buddy. Lucky, it's playtime," I said, drawing and flinging the second ball from the top in my team's lineup. I used a sidearmed throw, putting plenty of force behind it. The Pokéball flew straight under the flapping bird, striking the guard directly in the crotch. When Lucky emerged behind the Pelipper, the guard was not amused, glaring silently with teeth grit around his pain. Lucky, on the other hand, was quite amused. With a brassy shriek of a roar he immediately focused on the bird as it reoriented itself to face him. "Charge and Discharge, non-lethal voltage," I called out to him.

Sparks and miniature lightning bolts flickered down onto the electric cat's mane and star-shaped tail as he gathered static electricity from the air around him, concentrating and amplifying it with his natural bioelectricity. The Pelipper saw this and dove at him, water dribbling from its bill pouch in preparation to attack. Too slow. Lucky threw back his head, loosing another roar as he released the excess electricity he had charged up. Arcs of energy spewed outward, most fastening onto the attacking bird with one or two touching themselves to the guard. Muscles contorting from the shock, the Pelipper's momentum carried it past Lucky to crash to the floor beside the now paralyzed guard. They were both out just like that.

"That double strength weakness to Electric-types must be a bitch huh? Well, damn. I didn't even get to see his other two mons," I told the now purring big cat as he prowled over to stand beside me. "Good job," I praised him as I resisted the urge to pet his ears as congratulations for the ease of his victory. This soon after using Charge he'd probably zap me by accident. Still had to praise him, even if he hadn't done so perfectly in the fight. Luxray are very proud creatures, failing to stroke their ego after battle is asking for trouble.

I used the toe of one boot to roll the guard over and make sure he was alright, then looked up to see the reactions of those around me. The moneychanger was on her knees hiding behind the counter, trying not to be noticed. Smart girl, though really she should have taken the opportunity to flee or summon help it was better than attacking. The old women were still dropping coins into the slots nonstop, seemingly too deaf to have noticed the commotion and too absorbed in their gambling to see the light show. Marty was standing slack-jawed, though I couldn't yet tell if it was my performance, the trip he was on, or both that were the cause. "Well Marty, that was entirely too quick to be satisfying. Care to fight it out, or should we just talk?" I asked him with one of my more wicked grins, pulling a pack of cigarettes from one of my coat's voluminous pockets and lighting it with a flick of my custom red lighter.

"Ok, let's talk," he said, suddenly seeming much more sober. Violence has that effect on me too. "But not here. If we leave while Greg is out, they won't know where I went. If they know I'm talking to Looker and his people they'll kill me," he said, hocking back a wad of mucus. I was seriously hoping this didn't take long, the bastard was disgusting me more every time I looked at him.

I let him lead, Lucky still free of his ball to prowl along at my side. We made no secret of the fact that we were escorting him unwillingly. If the local cops got involved it could be inconvenient for me, but I wasn't interested in getting Looker's informant killed. At least not while he was still potentially useful to us. If Arabella's people asked around after this, they'd get reports of Marty being taken against his will from the Game Corner, with a Luxray and a scary dude with a sword making sure he went. As such I kept a hand on my katana, seemingly ready to draw at a moment's notice. Lucky also glared at anyone who came too close, eyes glowing as he looked through their gear to evaluate threats. Everyone left us alone.

Eventually we came to a cheap house, a one story stucco place that didn't fit with the rest of the city at all. As we drew closer, I saw it was actually set up as a duplex, explaining how Marty's clearly desperate ass could afford the place. No one with money to blow on even a small, ugly house does Gloom-based anything.

He unlocked the door on the left, though it took him no less than five tries to find the right key. On a ring of four keys. Figure that out. I followed him inside, where Lucky curled up in front of the door, eyes focused and glowing. With his ability to see through solid objects, the big Luxray would be ready to pounce before any threat could even begin to open the door.

"Don't forget to sweep the rest of the building now and then buddy. Being alert is only worthwhile if you're alert to all avenues of attack," I reminded him, getting a grumpy snort as if the cat wished to remind me that he knew that. Satisfied, I looked around.

If the inside of the Game Corner was a bit of a dump, this place still made it look like a vision of wealth and class. Dirty laundry was strewn everywhere, along with many empty (and half empty) takeout and pizza boxes. The sink in the tiny kitchen alcove was almost a solid mass of dirty dishes and mold. The smell nearly knocked me on my ass. It was a sty. Those who abuse the products of Grass and Poison-type Pokémon tend to let everything fall apart eventually, but damn this guy was at rock bottom.

"Sorry 'bout the mess," he mumbled, a bit sarcastically. "It wasn't s'bad a month ago, but... Arabella cut me off when I fumbled a shipment for her," he explained, almost seeming to be truly apologetic now. "She made sure I didn't get anything from anyone else to tide me over, to boot. It got like this while I detoxed... and when I caught my own Gloom and got high again I didn't care enough to clean it back up." He plopped down on a threadbare sofa, sending up a cloud of glistening green and red dust. Shit, the man was living in a Gloom nest, no wonder he was so addled. He wasn't just taking it directly, he was soaking up the pollen and such just living here.

"So Arabella's into drug manufacture and sale now, is she? Funny, you didn't mention that to Looker in your last report," I observed dryly. "Guess I was right, coming to double check."

"That's not why she's setting up here. I was buying my shit from her through a distributor in Goldenrod, over in Johto, years ago. She hired me on when she found out I had a Dealer's License to work in Game Corners earlier this year. Her operation here isn't anything to do with the drug trade," he explained, a bit more coherent now. Of course if he had been a junky as long as he just admitted, the flow of Gloom pollen in the air around him would probably have something to do with that. Addicts are often under the illusion that they can deal with life more effectively when they get a fresh dose. I, on the other hand, was getting mildly dizzy and the stench was atrocious. I let Big Bird out and gave a command to use the Defog technique.

"Thanks, I can breath again," I said after she had forced the pollen out of the air and back away from me. She gave a gentle, low pitched version of her usual shriek before returning to her ball. "So, its not about drugs you say? Care to tell me how you know that if you're not clear on what the operation is?" I asked menacingly. "Or how you could be clueless about what you're doing here if Arabella hired you specifically for whatever game she's running?" I continued, letting him know his bullshit was being called. The look on his face told me his habit had killed his ability to think lies like this through. Shit, if Arabella tipped to this asshole's problem she'd replace him for being an unneeded risk, even if she didn't know he was an informant. And then her Swalot would make a meal of him.

"Alright, you got me there. Arabella... she's not a very original girl," he said, idly rooting around for something under the sofa. "She and the others are just rehashing old cons and jobs their Teams put together back in the old days," he explained, finally coming up with a rancid smelling joint, which looked to be rolled with all-natural (and somewhat better smelling) Carnivine leaf. "Can I get a light?" he asked, and I was distressed to see a twitch had come into his face.

"If I light that, it's gonna be by asking my Blaziken to use Flamethrower. Want me to do that, or you wanna wait till I'm gone to kill what's left of your brain?" I asked. "Either way its gonna wait till I hear what I need to hear, but if you really want me to par-broil you it can be arranged." He flinched at that, placing the unlit joint in an ashtray nearby.

"Fuck man, calm down. I'll tell you what's up, no need to get psycho on me," he took a deep breath, which turned into a coughing fit. I waited, a bit impatiently. "This new Game Corner is just a front. No surprise, the Rockets did the same thing in Kanto. Big difference, they don't have a rich as hell benefactor funding every little thing, so its a craphole." His ability to insult anything in that manner unironically was amusing, but I was more interested in his information than his hypocrisy. "You noticed how low the ceiling was in there? You did, I can tell. There's construction going on up there, in the attic they made when they put the new ceiling in. The entrance is hidden behind the counter in the prize exchange, I hear. Never been there myself. Arabella plans on putting a fighting arena up there. Not standard battling, Pokémon will be set on each other with no trainers, no healing, and no mercy. One more thing for customers to bet on," he said, almost sounding sad.

"That sounds like a smaller scale version of what Cipher was doing over in Orre," I said, grinding my teeth a bit. Lucky let off a growl, picking up my anger as easily as Spitpyre would have. I've killed Pokémon in fights, or for food when I was stuck in the wild for an extended period. I certainly never shy away from a thick Tauros steak for dinner or a batch of scrambled eggs of most non-Bug species for breakfast. But pit-fighting, using confused, angry Pokémon with no guidance and no healing is sick.

"Like I said, they ain't so original. They've been in business quite a while though, and they're getting away with it. They don't go out shouting "We are Team Whatever and all Pokémon exist for our glory!" or stating their goals and such like the other Teams did. The mons who win enough in the fight club upstairs will then get used as prizes in the Game Corner's exchange, but that's just the start," he paused, making a face. "They're going to put transmitters on their Pokéballs to get access to the PC storage box that Pokémon is placed in. You know it'll happen eventually, especially as uncooperative as those poor creatures are bound to be by this point. After that, they can take whatever gets deposited in that box at will as if its their own."

That rocked me back on my heels. My own boxes are passcoded, to prevent tampering and theft by hackers and super nerds with loose morals. A lot of trainers do. But with that kind of transmitter in place to bypass security...

"Now that is original," I said, running a hand over my hair almost nervously. The implications of that sort of mass theft were beyond anything I'd known. For a moment I pictured what could happen if these transmitters managed to get into boxes belonging to, say, the Elite Four or any of the Champions. By the Creation Trio, imagine the horror that might be unleashed if someone like Arabella managed to get into ex-Champion Blue's boxes, or worse yet, _Red's_. Without having to waste time on training and conditioning their Pokémon, the criminals could have monsters at their command more powerful than anything the common trainers could throw at them. Now that was terrifying. Confident as I am as a trainer, I'm not sure I could handle myself in a world like that. "That explains what Arabella is doing dicking around with small-time shit like Game Corners. What else do you know?" I asked, fighting to keep a tremor out of my voice.

"Not much, really. They haven't got things done upstairs yet, they have to work on it at night to keep customers from wondering what's going on up there. Why they didn't just finish it before they opened up, I don't know. Maybe they needed the income. While they work on the premesis, they're getting the attractions ready. Not sure where or how, but they're getting the Pokémon for the fights together. Arabella is overseeing that personally. She told me herself, she wasn't gonna let me have any more Nectarz until she finished up and got back from wherever she went," he groaned, looking longingly at the joint he'd set aside.

"Why didn't you tell Looker all this?" I asked, resisting the urge to lean against the wall. Who knows what might have been caked on up there?

"Looker... he's a good cop, s'far as I can tell. But he's got loose lips. Fucker introduced himself to me by walking up and declaring he was an agent of the International Police. Was worried word would get back that I was spilling if he got anything too juicy from me. You... you're different. I get the feeling you cut loose ends with that sword there. Wouldn't be shocked if you cut me down with that sword on yer hip," he said softly. Almost wistfully.

"Why're you spilling so much if you expect me to kill you off now that I don't need you?" I asked, honestly curious. Most people in his position, believing what he did, would have stretched things out, tried to buy time with offers to find out more. Anything to not get sliced in half or worse.

"Cause I hate that bitch Arabella," he said, eyes lighting with an oddly defiant streak I hadn't expected to see there. "I know what I am, and yeah I see it sickens you. It sickens me too. But I'm hooked as hard as a Magikarp on a Super Rod man, and she uses it. She punishes me with it. She doesn't even fucking pay me anymore, she just shoots some Nectarz my way and calls it good enough. Well fuck her. I want to see her taken down," he declared, almost rising.

"Good. I'm putting her down for good," I said, waving him back down. "And you'll have helped. I don't think it'll be very good for you in the end... but what the hell, couldn't hurt. Get yourself to rehab sometime... and keep that card I gave you. If they find out you talked, gimme a call, I'll do what I can to keep you safe. Looker too, I'm sure," I said. I left before he could express an opinion. The look on his face said he'd only turn me down.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: The Hunt

While it might have been wise to simply stake out the area and wait for my quarry to come home, I felt like taking a more active approach. I could always come back and put that plan into action if I failed to locate her by other means. From what Marty had told me, it was unlikely that Arabella would be in any of the potential hideouts I'd noted in my Pokétch, especially if she was in charge of the new Game Corner and its secret objectives. She probably had lodgings in the hidden areas the stoned informant had told me about during out meeting. Still, it was possible she might be using one of the locations I had noted for whatever business had taken her out of Jubilife. So, worth a shot right?

I went on foot, letting Lucky trail along beside me out of his Pokéball. I'd have preferred to fly, but while taking off is allowed from nearly anywhere there are laws about landing in any location not officially approved by the League. I've been known to break those laws when needed, but the time saved wasn't worth it at this point. So, with Lucky keeping a watchful eye out, we visited the Ravaged Path, going all the way to Floraroma Town. Nothing there. We set off past Floraroma to look around Eterna Forest on the other side. No new buildings that I could find, and hidden underground bases seemed unlikely considering the cheap ass Game Corner Arabella was working with. I hear those things are hell on your budget. That left the Old Chateau to look into.

The old mansion loomed over us as we approached, casting us in even deeper shadow than is normal for Eterna Forest. People claim the place is haunted, its hard to get to due to the thick vegetation that grows nearby (facilitated by Budew and Roselia who tend to replant small trees when they are cut down), and all around even brave Trainers rarely care to go in there. Even rumors that Rotom, the outrageously rare Ghost/Electric-type, can sometimes still be found inside only brings truly dedicated hunters. If I was going to hide an illegal operation, that's where I'd go. If Ravaged Path hadn't been on the way I'd have gone to the Old Chateau first.

Spitpyre kindly shredded a number of small trees and shrubs, clearing a path to the door while I kept an eye out for any signs of recent passage, habitation, or surveillance. Aside from some very shallow footprints, I saw nothing. They were too light to even be sure if they were human or just human-shaped Pokémon. Still, the place lacked that empty feeling abandoned houses usually have. I set Lucky to guard the entrance while I edged quietly around the side, keeping my coat drawn close to blend with the deep shadows a bit more thoroughly.

I stepped up to have a peek through the window, looking into the kitchen. I hadn't expected much, but to my surprise there was a tall man in a white lab coat putting a sandwich together only a few feet away. I froze in place, holding my breath so as not to give myself away by fogging up the window, and waited for a chance to ease back out of sight. So, someone was present here. And familiar enough with the place to be preparing and eating there. Didn't mean it was connected to my case, but it was definitely worth the effort to find out. The question was, how to go in? I'd only seen the one man, but there was no telling who else might have been present. With my six mons and my katana, I'd bet on myself going up against almost any single opponent, and most double teams, but if they had a basement full of goons... that could be less pleasant.

So, perhaps the sneaky approach was best. I waited for a long count of ten, then checked the window again. No one in sight. I tried the window, moving with care. It would defeat the purpose of trying to go in this way if it screeched and squealed on the way up. To my surprise, it slid up quiet as a stalking Persian, if not so smoothly. I quietly whistled, calling Lucky to me, and slid silently through the window.

I'd been to the Old Chateau once before, a very long time ago when I had put myself in the hands of Veilstone City's Gym Leader Maylene for training. Back then, it smelled musty, old, and unwelcoming. There was a feel to the place, as if it did not welcome visitors. The oppressive feeling remained, the moment I crossed the threshold into the building it seemed a tiny voice in my brain started whispering "_We should _not_ be here!" _But the kitchen I had climbed into smelled of cleaning products, lemon scented. The counters and sinks had recently been cleaned thoroughly, the floors freshly mopped. A quiet hum revealed the refrigerator was running, so apparently the electricity was on here, rather than just the one eternally static-plagued television upstairs. Interesting, that too spoke of long term inhabitation.

I slipped deeper into the big house, looking around cautiously with Lucky at my heels. It was dim inside, no lights were on anywhere. Lucky's eyes were lit up, providing me a hint of light to see where to put my feet while he looked through the walls nearby. One of my favorite things about Luxray is their X-ray vision. So infrequently used by most trainers since it is useless in most battles, the ability is amazing when you need a guard, or when hunting and infiltrating in areas with thick vegetation or walls. The big cat was silent as he padded along behind me, as he always was in this circumstances. So when I heard the almost inaudible crackle of static electricity, I knew at once he had spotted something.

Following the shine of his eyes, I found he had focused on something behind the wall to my left. I flattened to the wall, silently sidling down to the doorway and cautiously peering around the side of the archway leading into the dining room. Lucky stuck close, letting out a soft growl I'd come to associate with him telling me to be careful.

The scientist, if that's what he was, stood near the table, his back to me. Aside from the lab coat which I had noted earlier, he seemed likely to be a scientist due to the device he held in his hands. He was scanning left to right and back, looking at a small LCD display screen set into a device that looked oddly like a camera, but with more wires and circuit boards cobbled together on the outside. He was frowning, munching idly on the sandwich he'd been making when I arrived as he tilted the device back and forth.

Looking up, it was easy to see what he was so interested in. A man in a butler's uniform was moving slowly from one end of the dining room to the other. Not an interesting sight, overall, except for the fact that this place was supposed to be abandoned. Oh, and that he was not walking, or running, or really moving at all. He seemed to be a full six inches off the ground. And that I could see the wall behind him, though he was perfectly visible, as if I had somehow learned to channel a Luxray's visual trick. As I watched, the figure disappeared, only to reappear at the right side of the room and begin the floating trek all over again.

So, this scientist looked less likely to be involved with Arabella and her lot. From what I could see, the device in his hands was likely a home-built variation of the Silph Scope originally manufactured in Kanto. Though why he had need of it when the ghost was perfectly visible was beyond me. A moment later the scientist held his sandwich crust in his teeth, freeing his hand to press a small button on the side of his scope. A soft click sounded, and a slot in the bottom of the scope spat out a small square of white paper that immediately began to darken. So it didn't just _look_ like a camera, it actually was one. The moment the click sounded, annoyance seemed to flicker over the spectral butler's face before he vanished once more. This time he did not return.

"Research log seventeen," the scientist said into a small tape recorder, which he pulled from his pocket. "My suspicions that the presence in the dining room area would linger if it detected that the living persons observing it were eating have proven valid. The spectre made a full five circuits of the room, more than long enough to attempt to photograph it using my scope-cam. The photo is developing now... success! The ghost is visible in this photograph, though oddly the color-palette seems reversed from what I actually saw with my own eyes," he reported to the recorder. "Further evidence that the ghost is aware of me, it seemed to react to the click of the camera, immediately disappearing and even displaying a measure of emotion at the sound. Further research into this area is needed, as the little girl spirit in the upstairs bedroom has never displayed any sort of awareness to me," he continued to dictate his research. This was looking like a bust, so I had begun to edge back down the hallway when he finished with a deeply irritated final notation, saying "Further research will have to be delayed, however, as Arabella has shortened my deadline as well as increasing her standing order for Nectarz to be sold in order to finance my official project. While I prefer to study the presences here, and indeed volunteered for this assignment for that very reason, I sadly must perform my official duties in order to be permitted to stay here and indulge my _hobby." _The scorn in his voice clearly said that his superiors disliked his so-called hobby.

I stayed in place as he exited the dining room, a hand gripping my katana, ready to draw if needed. Most science-types were not overly capable, physically, but this one was quite tall, a full six inches higher than I. You don't get that tall without some decent mass to go with it, even if you're skinny as a rail. No sense taking chances. No threat presented itself though, he turned away from me and headed into the main foyer at the entrance. Keeping a hand on my weapon, I tailed him quietly, with Lucky on my heels once more.

It wasn't a long walk, the two of us only barely kept out of sight as he turned and did something that made the monster statue click audibly. A moment later he went through a hidden doorway that had been behind it, which I found contained a very steep, narrow stairwell set into the wall, leading to the left and downward. We hurried to get past the frame, squeezing into the cramped space just as the statue swung back into place, locking us in. Well, time to hope there was not in fact an army of trainers in the basement.

We slid down the stairs slowly, me managing my sword to keep it from getting stuck in place or making noise, with the big cat leading the way now. It was dark in there, and he kept me from slipping on several of the more uneven steps. It was chilly down there too, no surprise there, and I was once more thankful for my heavy coat. It took a surprisingly long time to reach the bottom of the stairs, even factoring in the slow pace we had to take in the cramped space to keep from overtaking the scientist. The large basement chamber we eventually came to must have been very deep under the mansion indeed.

Unlike the stairwell that led down to it, the basement was spacious and well lit by buzzing florescent lights overhead. I've never liked that sort of lighting, it gives me a headache and washes the color out of everything. At the rear of the room was a large electrical collection plate, which in turn was affixed to a series of cables leading upward. A large cage surrounded the plate, holding in several Ampharos, a Raichu, and an Elekid. They were clearly wild, trying and failing to shock the scientist as he walked past them. All their electric attacks redirected to the metal plate, taking in power and storing it to run the house. Clever, there would be no waste products to trace that way aside from Pokémon shit, and there was no shortage of that in Eterna Forest.

An additional series of cages littered the left-hand side of the room, holding a number of small to large Grass-types ranging from a Bellsprout to an Eggsecutor to a bloody Tropius, squashed into place in a cage much too small to accommodate its huge palm-frond wings. They were all as pale and unhealthy looking as you'd expect of Grass-types being kept in a sunless basement. A row of stainless steel tables stood before these cages, covered in beakers, flasks, bunsen-burners and the like, as well as a huge mortar and pestle set. A whole production line to make high-end Nectarz for sale. A huge storage locker sat at the end of the table, no doubt packed with finished product. This was probably where Marty's vice had been coming from before the boss cut him off.

On the third wall, to the right of the power generating cage, sat a large workbench, an angled desk with drawing tools to work on schematics and the like, and several toolboxes labeled to determine their contents. Two racks next to the workbench held Pokéballs and various bits and pieces of equipment, wiring and circuit boards. The scientist himself was making adjustments to something he had set up on the drawing board. He was apparently making adjustments to the plans for the transmitters Marty had told me about. Perhaps this scheme of theirs was not as far along as he seemed to think. The scientist was focused on the work in front of him, muttering under his breath about some algorithm he needed to rethink to get access to work just so. Every so often, he would glance at the photo of the ghost wistfully.

Well now, wasn't that all interesting? This could be a chance to royally fuck up Arabella's plans _and_ gain information on her whereabouts all at once. Possible downside, the destruction of he little lab could be one hell of a head's up that someone was on her trail. That might not be the best thing to have happen. I looked over the mons that had been callously locked away down here, the Grass-types beaten down and weak, the Electric-types almost psychotically angry. I couldn't leave this exactly as it was, but neither could I afford to give Arabella any warning that I was after her. She'd shown a tendency to rabbit when she was busted and escaped in the past. And so far she was my only link to the other higher-ups of this organization that I knew of. Even if I was willing to let her go, which I most definitely was not, I couldn't afford to lose her. Its situations like this that make me wish I had a good Psychic-type on my team, so I could hit this guy with a mind bending whammy and have him report back whatever I wanted. But, lacking that, I'd have to get creative.

I stepped out of the doorway, standing at my full height, and stood silently behind him. At a hand-signal from me, Lucky remained crouched in the entry, his black and blue fur barely visible in the dim light there. With my left hand resting negligently on my sword's menuki, I cleared my throat as if politely interrupting a conversation. The scientist turned, angry at the interruption as if he expected someone else to be standing there.

"Hi!" I said brightly, making sure my expression did not match the cheerful tone. I've found when intimidating someone, a juxtaposition between tone and expression, with a little careless body language thrown in, does wonders. "So," I said as he flinched back from me, "whatcha doing down here buddy?"

This was not my week for successful first impressions, as far as scaring my foes into obedience goes. Rather than stammer and panic, as I'd intended him to do, he stood and transitioned smoothly into a pugilist's stance on the balls of his feet and then hit me with a right hook that sent me spinning to the floor before I could recover. Stupid criminals, not doing what they're expected to do. He was bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet, waiting to see if I stood up, when Lucky let out his brassy battle cry and came flying out of the stairwell at the man who had hurt his trainer.

The scientist reacted to the screaming cat much more as I had wanted him to, flinching back and going wide-eyed. But, he still displayed better than average reflexes and capability. He backed up quickly, snatching up a Pokéball from the rack as he went, getting into a corner at the rear of the room. Which sounds stupid, backing into a corner with an angry Pokémon that's over four feet tall and weighs nearly 100 lbs. bearing down on you. But, in this case it was clever, Lucky had to come at him head on, and the scientist had wisely put himself close to but not in contact with the electrical collector plate. Lucky tried to put him down with Discharge, but every tendril of electrical force he sent out curved and struck the plate, brightening the lights briefly. Before the Luxray could charge in to make the assault more of the up-close variety, the scientist threw his Pokéball.

Lucky was in midair, fangs glittering with arcs of electricity dancing between his snarling lips, when the energy emerging from the ball solidified into a Hippowdon, sand leaking from it's snarling mouth and the ports along its sides to pool around its massive feet. Lucky struck home, fangs snapping down on the newly appeared mon. And accomplishing nothing as the electric charge his Thunder Fang technique had built up flowed freely through the creature and into the floor.

At it's master's command, the Hippowdon slung it's head sideways, casting the smaller Luxray back across the room. I tried to recall Lucky into his Pokéball, not wanting to risk him in a close-quarters fight with the type disadvantage working against him, but my jaw was swollen from the punch I'd taken. The opposing mon was faster, first digging its way down into the concrete floor as Lucky passed back through the air before erupting under him, sending a plume of soil and concrete shards flying up to nail my Luxray. Lucky shrieked and spasmed as he flew upward from the force, before collapsing into an unconscious pile of bleeding fur.

That made me mad. I threw myself to my feet, recalling Lucky manually into his ball even as I threw another with my right hand. Bruce looked at the opposing Hippowdon with hungry eyes. It'd been a full month since his last battle, he was clearly looking forward to this. He bounced in place, waiting for instructions as he snapped his jaws threateningly at the scientist.

"Hippowdon, move to the side and use Take Down," the scientist calmly ordered his mon. Without hesitation, the Heavyweight Pokémon did exactly as instructed, jumping to its right and charging forward to smash against Bruce, knocking him backward towards me. The big, sand-spewing hippo paid for it, both recoiling from the impact and sending up a spurt of blood from the Sharpedo's rough skin.

"Bruce, wash this fucker's face for him," I called out, and Bruce almost seemed to grin. He righted himself and turned, spinning in place to put the jet on his rear into alignment with his foe. The Hippowdon made a face, trying to move aside, but Bruce fired his Aqua Jet too fast. His foe had only managed to turn broadside to him, making a bigger target. Water sprayed out with enormous force, smashing into the Ground-type and turning its sand to mud, washing it away.

Unfortunately, I apparently wasn't thinking clearly. When the Hippowdon had moved aside at its trainer's insistence, it had moved to stand right in front of the collector plate. With their tormentor standing so close, the Electric-types in the cage were trying to fry him almost non-stop. And guess where Bruce's attack was pointed?

The smell of burning fish scales was strong as my Sharpedo took multiple attacks against which he was weak all at once, flowing direct up the flow of water and back to him as he convulsed and collapsed onto his side, heaving a trickle of water through his gills. The Hippowdon collapsed right beside him in a splatter of mud, creating a double K.O.

"Tricky fucker," I said, calling my shark back and rubbing my sore jaw. "You took down two of my team. I got four more, though. Give it up and let's talk."

In response, the scientist laughed and threw two more balls he had hidden in his labcoat. From inside emerged two Pokémon more associated with scientists, a Porygon-Z and a Muk. They looked over at the crippled Hippowdon before it dissolved into an energy stream and whipped back into it's ball, which used the force of the returning Pokémon to jump back into the enemy's hand. Then they started advancing on me.

I snagged two more Pokéballs of my own from my coat and tossed them one at a time, one to my left, one to my right. 'Scicle tried to growl at the Muk as he emerged, though as always he sounded like he was singing. His frost-coated fangs at least let the enemy know what he meant. Meanwhile, Iron Maiden barely fit in the space afforded her, but oriented her gaze immediately on the computer-generated Pokémon.

"You're making me mad, buddy," I told him, letting the anger simmer in my voice. He arched an eyebrow, studying me almost like a bug as he waved a hand at the Porygon-Z. The bizarre, disconnected head of the creature rocked forward, a wave of visible psychic energies flowing out in a spiraling wave. I'd expected it probably knew some decent Psychic-type attacks, most Porygon trainers make sure to get a few of those on their Pokémon, which is why I didn't send Spitpyre out. Luckily, it aimed the attack at 'Scicle, who was strong against special attacks like that one. The Psywave clearly hurt, but the savage little Ice-type just let out another musical snarl and stiffened in place. The icy blue hair that covered him took on a shine, standing on end, as my Pokémon acted of his own will, using Mirror Coat to send the energy right back at the attacker.

Meanwhile, Iron Maiden struck out at the Muk before it could attack either of my mons. From her place coiled around the Nectarz production tables, she lifted her tail, tightening the metal plates there to harden them further, then slammed it down on the Muk's "head" with enough force to crack the floor below it. The Poison-type reeled, its gooey body smashed flat by the Iron Tail technique.

"Pory, use Conversion 2!" the scientist called to his still standing Porygon-Z. That's the problem with Mirror Coat, if your own Pokémon isn't hurt very badly it doesn't do as much good to send the damage back to sender. As I watched, the CG mon's skin flashed dark black for a moment as it converted its type to Dark, becoming immune to Psychic-type moves like Mirror Coat. "Muk, Acid Armor and Minimize!" he called out, and the Muk instantly secreted a layer of fast-drying acidic gunk while contracting in on itself. Maiden's next swing missed as the Muk seemed to shrink in place.

"Switch targets guys, 'Scicle hit with Ice Beam, Maiden use Rock Smash," I responded. A moment later the Steelix had slammed her massive head down on the newly Dark-typed opponent. Rock Smash is a weak Fighting-type attack, but with the damage it had already taken plus the weakness to attacks of that type, it was enough. The computer generated mon collapsed, virtual blood leaking from it's mouth as it went into one of Porygon's odd shaking patterns. Poor thing was glitching. Meanwhile, 'Scicle opened his mouth wide, sending a beam of icy energy at the Muk and managing to hit it despite its presenting a minimal target. The Acid Armor shrugged off a goodly portion of the attack, but not all of it. The Muk reeled back, blubbering out an angry call as its trainer demanded it respond with Toxic. "Maiden, intercept that!" I yelled urgently, and the poison-immune Steel-type obliged, slamming her head down and letting the sickly purple vomit her enemy had sprayed out splash over her rather than 'Scicle.

"Damn it Muk, we're going to lose!" the scientist called. He sounded afraid now. "Use Flash," he called, and the Muk responded with a bright flash of light formed from a chemical reaction in it's innards. 'Scicle and I were shielded from it by Maiden, but she got it full force, blinding her temporarily and causing her to jerk back away from the disgusting pile of sludge. "Now hit the Glaceon with Flamethrower!"

That was bad, but I had no chance to react. More chemical reactions occurred inside the Muk as it rapidly produced flamable gas and expelled it, a touch of Fire-type energy igniting it. A stream of fire engulfed my Glaceon, who let out a pained shriek. When the flames cleared I couldn't help but let out a cheer. 'Scicle was still standing, still savage despite the pain he was clearly in. And his fur was once more standing up and shining with reflective radiance. This time he'd taken heavy damage, almost enough to put him down. If the enemy had been a true Fire-type, he'd be out of the fight for sure. And as I said before, the more you hurt a Pokémon with Mirror Coat, the more it hurts you back if it doesn't go down. The Muk's gelatinous body all but exploded as the energy it had sent out went hurtling back at it, blasting gobs of its sickening, smelly mass all over the scientist who had commanded it. It managed to stay up for a moment, then slowly teetered and collapsed in on itself, dead. 'Scicle struck his foe with lethal force, and he sang in delight as the "corpse," if it can be called such, dried up. He's always been a hostile little thing.

I walked over to the scientist, pausing for a moment to spray 'Scicle with a Full Restore to restore his strength and eliminate the burn that last attack had left him with. Then, I stood over my foe and glared. He was on his knees, coughing and retching. Muk fluid is horridly toxic, filled with poison, germs, even carcinogens. With the dose he'd gotten, he probably had thirty minutes to live, tops. Unless someone helped him out. This could solve my dilemma easily.

"Listen buddy, if you wanna live," I said, and though he couldn't respond verbally he nodded quite vigorously. "I've got enough Antidotes with me to patch you up and keep you from shuffling off this mortal coil. But if you want them, you're gonna have to work for me from now on. Deal?" I demanded, letting him know this was his only chance.

"Deal," he croaked, followed by a wash of vomit I barely avoided. I grinned, opening up my pack and sorting through the medicine pocket. This was going to go very well.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: Watch and Learn

Little known fact, humans do not respond to Antidotes as quickly or as completely as Pokémon do. It took ten of the things to relieve the scientist's symptoms, though to be fair that could have been due to the source of his poisoning, at least in part. Two full hours passed as I waited for him to recover, occasionally puking his guts out. It was not fun in the least.

By the time he was in decent shape again, I'd finished investigating the balls on the rack. As expected, I couldn't tell them apart from normal balls at all. I was turning to Spitpyre to suggest smashing them to bits when he finally got enough breath in him to speak.

"That won't do any good," the scientist said. "I'm working on new designs for the transmitter system, to make them harder to detect. They already work fine." I gave him a look, wordlessly urging him to continue. After a few wracking coughs, he went on by saying "Arabella wants to keep this scheme of hers going, move it into other regions. She doesn't want someone from Silph or Devon Corp finding her little trinkets. Several other scientists are working the same project."

"Well, I planned on shutting her down at the source anyway," I growled, Spitpyre echoing my displeasure, "but I never even mentioned any of that. So how did you know I wasn't just into breaking shit for fun?" I asked, head tilting to the side as I questioned him.

"Why else would you be down here?" he answered my question with a question. "No one ever comes down here, even those fools looking for a Rotom have never found this place," he explained, still wheezing softly.

"You guys are horrible about giving out information on plans and objectives, you know that? If I had just been some random guy who found his way down here, I'd know way too much now, idiot," I sighed, shaking my head. Even when its in my favor, idiocy annoys me. "But forget that. I'm looking for Arabella. Where is she?"

"Look, I'm not very invested in her project, not at all. I only took this assignment because she said I could have funding for my research upstairs if I helped her out. I got my degree in chemistry and engineering to try and prove there were real ghosts out there, not just Ghost-types that _seem_ to be ghosts. I hate making her drugs for her, but she wouldn't even let me work on my real research if I didn't keep it up. Now that I've got my equipment built, I could care less if she stays in business. But now that I'm on board, if I stop getting results or if she finds out I helped anyone find her she'll kill me," he said, coughing still more from the exertion of speaking. Little flecks of purple slime splattered out of his mouth as he did, while I slipped aside. Neutralized or not, Muk slime is not something you touch willingly. This guy was going to have bad breath from hell for months.

"If you don't help me, I'll have my buddy here melt the locks off of those cages and then let my Glaceon back out to freeze the door and lock you down here," I threatened. "I don't want to see you dead, particularly, but I'm sure _they_," I motioned to the Electric and Grass-types, some of whom were still raging at their captivity, "most certainly do."

"Alright, so I live a little longer if I talk. What stops her from messing me up later? Or her boss, for that matter? He knows what's up same as I do," the scientist asked, running a shaky hand over his face and flinging slime down to the floor.

"I got a plan for that. You're not gonna like it, but it'll keep you breathing. Your research is dead, unless you wanna join it, you can tell me what I wanna know and then fake it."

He talked. It took a while to convince him that yes, I would in fact kill him if he made me. Apparently my having saved his life from the Muk's toxic remains had led him to believe I lacked the stomach for it, until I pointed out that I had let my Glaceon kill said Muk to begin with. That got his mouth flapping finally.

I learned that his finished transmitter prototypes were delivered to the desert on Route 228. Arabella, it seemed, had gotten brave over the years, its a very short walk from that desert right to the Battleground, frequented by every Gym Leader in Sinnoh, and a number of other strong trainers or even ex-Champions have been known to come in for a battle as well. The exact location of the drop varied, he told me. He had never actually seen where they ended up, though on one occasion he'd seen a man in desert camouflage arrive to pick up the shipment. While it wasn't as specific as I'd have liked, it narrowed things down a lot considering I'd had the whole region to search before. So, that left two objectives on the agenda, disposing of the evidence of my presence in the lab in such a way that let the scientist live, and setting out to continue narrowing down my target's location.

Of course, I couldn't leave those Pokémon there, so I decided to let them help me out with my deception. The scientist turned over their balls willingly enough, and after making sure these Pokéballs had not been tampered with, I returned them all and uploaded them to my storage system, along with his Hippowdon and Porygon-Z. Much as I'd have preferred to release them, the Grass-types were too weakened and the Electric-types were too vicious from their mistreatment. I'd donate them to a rehabilitation program later. Then, I demanded his coat and glasses. The glasses, I smashed and left under the work table. The coat, Spitpyre gladly tore into pieces. To make it authentic, I made sure it got a little bloody. He really didn't like that part, but he lived with it, using part of his shredded coat as a bandage. It was a very shallow wound on the back of his hand, I doubted it would even scar if he cared for it properly. Spitpyre then used his weakest fire technique, Ember, to char the wiring that kept the collector plate functioning. From there, I called out Lucky, waking him from his stunned state with a Revive. Grumpy as he was from losing his battle, he was all too happy to vent his rage when I had him blast the room repeatedly with electric attacks. With nothing to redirect the energy, it wound up charring the walls, bursting chemistry sets, and blackening portions of the scientist's coat. With the doors of the cages open and the collector damaged, it would look like the scientist had gotten careless on security and maintenance, leaving the captives free to escape and murder him horribly. We were free to leave. I left a few pieces of lab coat on the way up, including an entire arm stuck in the doorway. As far as any investigator would know, the Pokémon had escaped and killed their captor, wrecking the place in the process. With no body in sight, they'd likely assume one or more of the captives was hungry as well as vengeful, and never notice a few that the captive's Pokéballs were missing.

Big Bird didn't want to carry the guy, but eventually I convinced her. He didn't want to ride with her either, but I didn't give him a chance to argue. I put a bag over his head and used the handcuffs Looker had given me for when I brought someone in for the police. Then, we took off, him dangling from her talons, and headed to nearby Eterna City. Once I got back to my office, I called Looker up on my PokéGear and waited around for the uniformed cop they sent in to pick him up. With that out of the way, night was close to falling again. Rather than immediately set out on the lengthy flight out to the northern island where the scientist had directed me, I decided to get a good night's sleep and thus headed home.

I arrived at the Pokémon Center in the Survival Area, right next door to the Battleground, after sunset the next day. I spent most of the day getting some additional equipment together for the trip, and making sure the right people knew where I was going. I had no desire to die of thirst if I got myself lost somehow. I chose night for several reasons, most prevalent among them being that living in Sinnoh had left me unaccustomed to the heat I knew I'd find on Route 228 during the day. It had been years since my days as a child in the tropical Hoenn region after all.

When I arrived, Big Bird demanded, in her shrieking way, to stay with me. She wanted her turn outside the Pokéball. I shrugged, popping into the Center to make sure the team was in top form after the pounding some of them had taken the day before. If she wanted some time out, I was fine with that, her colors blended with the night better than most of my mons, and she'd be useful for scouting the area besides. As we departed, she glided and flapped along, reveling in her flight but staying fairly close.

It took me an hour of hiking along to locate the rough approximation of one of the drop-off points my new informant had directed me to. It took me another hour of backtracking when I realized I had walked right past it. Stupid desert, everything looks the same. Even in bright moonlight, telling one patch of barren sand from another is not one of my strong points. When I had the right place, using Stark Mountain as a reference point, I set down the crate of Pokéballs, then backed off to find a hiding place nearby.

Hiding in the desert is also hard. There is so little there to break line of sight, no trees to climb, nothing. And with everything looking the same there, anything that _doesn't_ look like a patch of sand tends to stand out. So, I didn't try looking too hard before I called Maiden out and just had her dig me a burrow at an angle into the side of a dune. Big Bird, still wanting time out of her ball, was allowed to fly in a wide circle above my position. She'd keep an eye out for threats while I kept watch.

The scientist said that pickups of merchandise usually took place in the middle of the night. I'd caught a lucky break catching him when I did, just before he took a load of his prototypes for delivery. It cut down on the waiting, as well as the chance that his lab would be discovered. I couldn't use a tracking beacon of my own (supplied by Looker's people) slipped into one of the crate to find the enemy if they thought he was dead.

It was a long wait. Big Bird gave the occasional screeching cry, keeping me informed of her position. I didn't stir for those, had she been trying to warn me of danger she'd have swooped lower, put more alarm into her voice. I had a decent view of the crate and its immediate surroundings myself, despite the small size of the hole I was hiding in. Maiden had used Dig to make it, but had not followed through on the move at all. A hole big enough for a thirty foot Steelix would be all but uesless as a hiding spot, even if it had any integrity at all. So, she'd mostly just drilled in with the tip of her tail and called it good.

Even with a clear vantage, I would never have been able to see the dull, sand colored wood of the crate if I didn't know where to look. So it was no surprise that when a tall man in desert camo arrived to pick it up, Big Bird saw him first and gave a fierce screech of warning. I picked him out then, if only because he was moving. And, I observed, he moved well, falling into a fighting crouch and readying a Pokéball to throw as needed. He took in his surroundings in a long, slow scan of the sky and surrounding desert, before quickly getting back to his feet and walking to the crate. He inspected it thoroughly as well, though I knew he wouldn't find my tracking beacon. It was, after all, glued to the inside of one of the Pokéballs on the very bottom of the pile. Satisfied that all was well, he called out a Rampardos, one of the rare extinct Pokémon resurrected by science, and ordered it to pick up the shipment and follow him.

I let them go. I could have caught him and squeezed the location I wanted out of the guy, but that would have warned his boss something was wrong. As wary as he seemed, it would be unlikely for the higher ups to believe a wild mon had taken him down. So, I let him get entirely out of sight, then climbed out of my burrow and, dusting sand off of myself, brought up my Pokétch's Marking Map application. Satisfied that it was working, I checked the Marking Map function on my Pokégear. Both working without a hitch. Even if one broke down, odds were good the other would still be in good shape. I do love backups. Like overkill, there is no such thing as too much precaution.

Calling Big Bird back down to me, we set off across the desert. She settled in to fly slowly behind me, low enough that the down-draft from her wing beats blew my footprints apart. Funny enough, I never taught her that trick, yet one look at her preening face showed she was doing it on purpose. Clever girl. Knowing it would be nigh impossible for someone to pick up my trail by sight, I picked up the pace a bit, trusting her to blow away the deeper tracks I was making.

Eventually we came to a series of large dunes, with my Marking Map showing the signal coming from the largest of them all. I crouched on a smaller dune a ways off, looking over the surrounding area for signs of a building or encampment. Nothing jumped out at me.

"Big Bird, see anything worth pointing out?" I asked the Keen Eyed raptor. She had been scanning too, but as I turned to see her response I saw she had focused sharply on something. Following her gaze, I found... cacti. There were quite a few of them, some tall and branching, others squat and round. All covered in needles, of course. They were growing in a loose ring around the large dune, and up the sides as well. That was a little odd, no form of cactus plant is native to Sinnoh's small desert to my knowledge. Still, I had passed several on my trek, and people do have a distressing habit of introducing non-native species between regions. How they got there seemed unimportant to me, however, when compared to my Pokémon's interest in them. I was opening my mouth to ask when one of them moved.

The Cacnea turned to face me, shuffling on its tiny legs, then settled back to the ground. A moment later, one of the taller Cacturne stretched its arms, relieving tension on its joints, before resuming its pose. That explained a lot, my Flying-type companion would know at once what the supposed plants actually were. The cactus based Grass-type family we were looking at is often found in deserts in several regions, though no one is sure if they are natives or populations built by released Pokémon. All that is known is that the species seems to have originated in Hoenn's desert areas around what is now Route 111. And that they are terrifyingly dangerous predators that sleep, concealed as cacti during the day, before rising to stalk and kill prey at night when day dwellers are exhausted by the heat.

That gave me a moment's pause. Cacnea and Cacturne are nocturnal hunters. Yet, it was the middle of the night and these were all dormant. They should have been out wandering, stalking weakened people and Pokémon, not sitting in place. They were wide awake, but immobile. Wild Cacnea and their evolved form do not act like that. Which could only mean they were, in fact, trained examples. A camouflaged security force, perhaps. That spoke of an extreme level of preparation, especially as there was no actual sign of anything for them to be guarding. Going off their positions and the readings on my Marking Map, the balls must have been somehow taken inside the dune.

Much as I hated the idea, it seemed more waiting would be required. I could take out an army of Cacnea or Cacturne, using Ice, Fire, Flying, and for the Cacturne, Fighting-type moves. But it would probably draw attention, cutting down time I would need to find an entrance. I was tempted to do it anyway, and just fight my way into the base I was sure would be inside. But, even with type advantage out the ass on my side, there were enough enemies in sight that I knew I wouldn't get out unscathed. I'd have to fight full force, hitting hard and fast, which might get my quarry killed. It would be best to wait, and see where the entrance could be found in the morning.

Had I known what I would find, I'd have risked the quick approach.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four: Intelligence & Infiltration 

I awoke the next morning to a soft grumble vibrating the sand below me. Blinking in the dim light of my disguised pup-tent, I softly shushed Iron Maiden, who had been keeping watch for me. I'd seen to it the big Steel-type had burrowed down into the sand until only her eye ridges appeared above the surface of the dune the night before, then used the loose soil she stirred up to disguise my own resting place, piling it up until, from a distance at least, it would appear to be just a part of the landscape. Thus, when I reached out and twitched aside the entry flaps, I still had the high ground for a good view of the big dune my Marking Map had led us to.

The Cacnea and Cacturne were still there, so it seemed I hadn't slept through my only chance at seeing where the entrance was. I didn't see what it was that had caught Maiden's attention, however. Aside from being better lit, and a few of the Grass-type guards having moved in the night, everything looked identical to me. But of course, I can't sense faint vibrations in the ground like she can.

A door opened in the side of the dune as I watched. It wasn't fancy, just a sheet of steel opening upward, sand apparently adhered to it completely. Rills of sand trickled down from above and to the side, disturbed by the motion, but I could tell that when it was closed back up there would be no notable differences. Several men and women emerged, carrying folding chairs, a patio table with a folded umbrella, and a cooler of drinks. Another brought out a rack of Pokéballs not unlike the ones I had seen in the lab back at Eterna Forest.

I saw them returning Cacturne and Cacnea to Dusk Balls by the bunch out of the corner of my eye. Most of my attention was focused on the woman walking through the doorway and settling into a chair under the umbrella, which had since been opened for shade. After all these years, she was still wearing her Rocket uniform, beret, mini-skirt and all. Even in the heat the morning sun had already begun to kick up, she was wearing the all black sweater. Arabella Ragnos, loyal to her team to the end and most of a decade beyond.

Rage hit me at the sight of her, rage that I had never felt looking over photos or reading files. Here was one of my enemies, in the flesh. I had started scooting forward when my PokéGear vibrated in my pocket. I almost ignored it, but decided to let them finish setting up for whatever they were doing instead. They were active at that moment, after all, I'd let them get bored and complacent before moving on down the hill. I'd be less likely to eat a long-range blast of venom or bile that way.

"Not a great time, Looker," I said into the receiver, keeping my voice down and thanking my lucky stars that I'd remembered to set the thing to silent the night before. I didn't hide the irritation in my voice.

"Can't be helped, one of my bosses wanted to know where you are," the international cop replied, sounding a bit annoyed himself. "When I told him I didn't know, he made me pull up your location using the GPS locator in your PokéGear." His voice had taken on an apologetic tone at that point. Looker doesn't like invasions of privacy any more than I do.

"He did _what?_" I snarled quietly. "I'm out here helping do his job, and he's tracking me like a common criminal?" I fought to keep my voice in a low growl as opposed to the angry shouts I wanted to loose. Maiden, hearing me, grumbled as well. I modulated my voice to keep her from bursting out of the sand and giving us away. "Give me one good reason why I should put up with-" I started to demand, but Looker cut me off.

"The area we found you in is currently off limits to the public, by order of the Frontier Brains down at the Battle Frontier. Y'know, the ones who own that island? They put the order down a month ago, how the hell did you get in there?" he asked, a note of placation in his voice, rubbing shoulders with authority telling me he didn't like me snarling about his orders even if they were wrong.

"I walked," I said, keeping my eyes on Arabella and her people as they moved about below. Something was odd, they were dividing up Pokéballs between them, sorting them in some way. "It was the middle of the night, if anyone was supposed to stop me they didn't see me."

"That sounds like you, even if they'd stopped you it wouldn't have _stopped_ you would it? I'm supposed to order you out of that area at once, a dozen trainers have disappeared in that desert on their way up to Stark Mountain. They found two of their corpses, burns and battering injuries. The top brass there in Sinnoh is concerned that maybe Heatran woke up again," he said, a definite edge to the words. Legendary Pokémon don't show up near civilization often. When they do, shit tends to hit the fan hard.

"Well, I don't know about Heatran. I'd figure they got too close to Arabella's little project. I'm here for a reason, Looker, I'm not leaving. You can't order me to do anything. If you're gonna cut my pay for this disobedience go right ahead, you know I'm not chasing the bitch for the money," I told him, more patient now. At least they were trying to help, though tracking me remotely like that was still beyond annoying. "Anyway, before you say anything else get a load of this," I told him, describing what I was seeing right after.

While we'd been talking, the group below had drawn a ring in the sand, well over fifty feet across. I'd seen sporting rings that were smaller. As I watched, Arabella was sipping a drink of some sort and waving for one of her subordinates to throw a ball into the ring. When it opened, expelling its occupant, a Charmeleon was suddenly standing in the center of the ring. It was healthy, but its chest and thighs were covered in criss-crossing scars. Its tail-flame was burning hot and vibrant, smoke leaking from its nostrils in heavy streams. When it looked at Arabella, it let out a shriek of anger, digging at the sand with its talons, body heat surging enough to fuse the sand below its feet into glass. It clearly hated her, and just as clearly could not attack. It was held under the influence of its Pokéball, something only a very few mons can break free of even briefly.

With another signal, Arabella told her flunkies what to do next. Which turned out to be throwing balls into the ring one after another. They burst, here dispelling a Poochyena, there letting out a Vespiqueen. One that landed behind the Charmeleon unloaded a Tangela, yet another popped out an Abamasnow. Before a few heartbeats had passed, the one Fire-type was facing fifteen enemies. It had type advantage over most, sometimes a double type advantage such as the Abamasnow, but was horribly outnumbered when Arabella, laughing coldly, ordered them all to attack at once.

It was, in a word, brutal. There were no restrictions, no advice called out, nothing but Pokémon attacking as a wave. I could see why the Charmeleon had so many scars now. It turned, sending a burst of fire that appeared to be an Ember at the Tangela. Before it could line up to attack again, the Poochyena had bitten into the base of its tail and planted its feet, snarling and shaking its head viciously. The Abamasnow surged over its burning partner, rearing back its arm to slam down on the foe with Wood Hammer. Vine Whip lashed against the poor Fire-type from the side as a Bellsprout struck, both attacks drawing blood despite the type disadvantage. With so many foes, it seemed impossible for the Charmeleon to overcome such odds.

It didn't surprise me when the powerful starter proved that sort of thinking wrong. I raised a Fire-type starter myself, after all. It managed to use the impact of Wood Hammer to turn back on its own tail, slashing into the Poochyena with Metal Claw. With a whimpering scream of sudden pain, the Poochyena dropped in place, a puddle of its own blood already soaking into the sand. Continuing the turn, the Charmeleon swung its tail flame in a wide circle around its body, sending a ring of spinning flames to catch up around the Abamasnow. Trapped inside, the beast could only cry out in pain as the Fire Spin slowly chewed into its wooden limbs, melted its icy coating, and tortured it. The Charmeleon, meanwhile, viciously tore into the Bellsprout, ripping the little beast entirely in two with Fire Fang, leaving it smoldering on the ground.

The attacking force didn't give up, and scored many more attacks. The Abamasnow eventually escaped, but weak as it was it knocked itself out with its own Wood Hammer, then died as it was caught in a violent Flame Thrower the angry lizard was spewing at a Weepinbell that had tried to hide behind its icy partner. Bleeding and staggering, the Fire-type's Blaze had kicked in, its tail burning like a tiny star as it tore into the attacking force. Before long, the entire force was dead, burning or bleeding on the sand.

And that bitch Arabella was applauding with a smirk on her face. I told Looker I'd call him back later and hung up before he could complain. Arabella was speaking to her aides, and I wanted to hear her if possible.

"It isn't done yet. Heal it enough to survive another round and send out another wave of assailants. I want completion on this subject within the hour, Patricia. How are the gatherers doing at finding us more specimens for the training phase?" she ordered and demanded, with a tone of authority I'd not have believed of the woman I remembered from my childhood. Arabella had gotten used to command it seemed.

"Yes ma'am, we'll begin getting another round going," answered a mousy blonde in a lab coat, worn over a Rocket uniform just like Arabella's. Old coworkers, perhaps. "The team we sent out to find more Grass and Ice-types is in the forest near Snowpoint now. I've put down reminders to punish their leader when he returns, apparently the delay was caused when he stopped in Eterna Forest to evolve his Eevee into a Leafeon, the putz. They'll be back with another load of subjects by nightfall, however, so it shouldn't impact the project appreciably."

"Good, good. Well, heal the damn brute and let's get on with it," Arabella said, waving her hand in another signal. Soon enough more balls flew, and the poor Charmeleon started the whole battle again as a Sneasel latched onto its back with hook-like claws and started slashing repeatedly.

The second fight took longer. Blood ran freely into the sand, a haze of smoke hung over the scene, and cries of rage and pain seemed to echo long after the voices of the combatants fell silent. I was sickened by the spectacle of it. I'm no stranger to blood and death in battle, but the whole ordeal had been so unnecessary. The Charmeleon screamed. My gorge rise. I longed to charge down the hill, my voice joining that of my Pokémon in announcing my rage. And I would have, if only I hadn't been stuck in a tiny pup-tent. In the time it took me to extricate myself from the confines and get going, I'd be spotted. So I waited, as the poor Charmeloen's tail-flame burned lower and lower... then suddenly bloomed into a raging miniature inferno as Blaze activated again It was injured enough to call out additional power now, and the Sneasel learned it when it was suddenly burned to ashes by an extra strength Flame Wheel. The second round didn't last long after that, and left another layer of carnage slewed across the formerly pristine sand.

With a final, weary growl, the Charmeleon pitched forward into the sand with a thud. It was writhing, growing. Its head-crest split into two horn-like protrusions. Its skin lightened to a firey orange. Wings erupted from the beast's back. Where once a Charmeleon had rested, there was now a Charizard. So that's what they were doing, forcing the Pokémon to evolve rapidly through constant, abusive battle.

"Very good. Patricia, return this one to its ball and prepare the next subject. The rest of you scan the assailants on the ground. If any of them are still alive, even barely, they're strong enough for the project. We've got to have big prizes if we want people to come into that dumpy little property we've been stuck with," Arabella ordered, and people practically jumped to obey. Most of the bodies were loaded up and taken away, probably to be used as food for the survivors considering how cold blooded these people were. A few were given potions and burn heals, though they were left weak and docile from the beating they'd taken. One by one the survivors were taken off the battlefield, clearing the way for still more of this brutal "training" to take place.

Before the next round could begin, however, the muted call of a Gloom began repeatedly sounding. I looked around, confused. Not only were Gloom non-native to the desert, but it was so muffled I couldn't even begin to trace the location. It became clear when Arabella pulled a small PokeGear from her hip pocket. She always did have a fondness for Gloom, apparently she used its cry as a ring tone.

"Yes boss? I'm in the middle of preparations for the... yes sir. No sir, we received the shipment earlier today," she stood and began pacing as she spoke. Despite the distance, I could see that she looked worried. "I don't know sir, he's never been careless with the Pokemon on loan to the lab before. Maybe he just got complacent, he had been down there for a long time. And the fool was constantly slacking off to go chase ghosts or some damn thing," she seemed to calm down visibly. I hated only hearing half the conversation. I was willing to bet the voice in her ear was the Cipher agent who'd made the top of my hit list so long ago. Not many others would command that kind of respect out of a criminal as hardened as Arabella. "Right away boss. Tell the girls down at my "side-business" to treat you to a good time on the house tonight, on my orders. Yes, I thought that'd cheer you back up a bit," she smirked. It would have been a rather attractive look on any other woman. The cold, haughty amusement on her face ruined the effect far more effectively than the old scar that marred her face. A moment later she hung up and pocketed her PokéGear, turning to face a crew of nervous looking assistants. Only the one they called Patricia met her eyes.

"Don't tell me the deadline is getting pushed up again?" She walked up to stand at Arabella's side, perhaps a half-step behind her. I noted she walked smoothly, and something about her posture made me think she could handle herself in a fight with or without Pokémon. Mousy looking she might be, but that might just be camouflage.

"No, we're actually cancelling the rest of today's exercise. We've got to find a replacement for that idiot we left in charge of the lab in the Old Chateau. Seems he got himself killed by the Pokémon. Get the collection team on the line too, tell them to divert their efforts to replacing the Nectarz and electricity production specimens. The whole lot of them escaped the lab after they took out... what was his name?" She was already striding forward, back toward the compound. "Forget it, his name hardly matters now." Patricia followed her, waving impatiently at the other servants who immediately set to clearing up the table and chairs. One of them sent out an Onix, forcing it to eat its way through the sand. In mere moments, the blood soaked dirt was pristine once more, and the whole crew had disappeared into the compound.

I gave them a slow count of ten before I crawled out of my tent, stretching with a wince. I can't say laying in that position, constantly tense, was any good for my back. I recalled Maiden into her ball, briefly managing to amuse myself as a Steelix shaped dent suddenly appeared in the sand as it fell into the space she'd once occupied. Then I set my feet and started sliding quickly down the hill.

I scanned the area thoroughly as I approached the area I'd seen the door open from. It seemed unlikely that the area was truly unguarded. Nothing happened, however. Perhaps they'd forgotten their security measures as they hauled ass to obey their superiors. Once I reached the dune concealing the doorway, I paused to take stock, slipping Lucky's ball from my pocket and letting him out.

"Look through this dune for me big guy. Is there a room behind it?" The feline's eyes lit up, briefly, then he looked up at me and pawed at the ground twice. He may not have the power of speech on his side, but only fools will tell you Luxray can't communicate just fine. "No? Is it an elevator, or stairs?" He huffed at me in annoyance, refusing to answer. "Fine fine, only yes or no questions. Is it stairs?" That seemed more likely than an elevator, these people seemed to be on a rather tight budget. This time the big cat only pawed once, digging a shallow scoop of sand up. "Stairs it is," I grinned wickedly. "Is it guarded?"

It took twenty minutes of searching to find the mechanism to open the door. Fortunately, I happened upon a smaller door just as I was preparing to open it up and storm the gate. That would make a somewhat stealthier infiltration possible. Lucky was unable to count, so while I knew there were guards on the other side I had no clue how many. That meant being ready to hit them hard and fast as soon as I came through. So, I threw the door open, thankful that it opened inward, and stepped through in a hurry, Lucky and Spitpyre both right behind me.

In fact, I stepped through a bit _too_ fast. The door frame wasn't as tall as I'd thought, and I managed to whack the top of my head pretty hard on it in my haste. Despite my order for silence, I thought I heard Spitpyre hiss out a quite laugh as he ducked his way through behind me. Though that might have just been the head trauma talking. Fortunately for yours truly, I've spent a lot of time being forced to operate despite blows to the head. It comes with the territory when you train under Maylene. So despite the flock of Pidgeys circling my head, I was still able to count four guards, all wearing Team Galactic grunt uniforms. They were squatting in a loose semi-circle in the center of the room. As I scanned them, a set of dice fell from the lone female's hand.

What we did next was hardly fair. Anything even vaguely like it would get you thrown out of a sanctioned match. Pokémon battles are noisy by definition. If you want to enter pretty much any location the sneaky way, they need to be avoided. We avoided it by taking the guards out before they could throw a single ball. Or call for help.

Spitpyre was on my right, and thus immediately struck at the burly man directly in front of him. Before we came in, I'd issued orders to use whatever force was necessary to take whoever we met on the other side of the door silently. Spitpyre took that as permission to cut loose, beginning the fight by using Slash. Blaziken talons are sharp enough to slice down trees, so when he struck his foe across the chest there was only a soft "thunk" of impact before he fell gurgling to the floor. With his lung shredded, he wouldn't be doing anything but dying.

Lucky sprang forward, perhaps a half second slower than his partner. He locked his fangs on the thigh of the thinner man to my left. Electricity surged through his locked teeth, though only a soft crackle betrayed his use of the attack. His victim immediately locked into a rigid stance, every muscle in his body tensing from the current. I knew the look in his eyes, he'd been paralyzed. Normally that would be non-fatal, but with his femoral artery gushing his inability to move would quickly spell his doom.

That left the two in the middle, an older man with whispy white hair and the slightly plump woman. She was opening her mouth, drawing breath to call for help. Or, considering how wide her eyes had gone, very likely to scream for help. The old man was reacting more calmly, snatching at a Pokéball on his belt. Spitpyre's rush had carried him past his target and nearly to the far wall. Despite the somewhat cramped space, he wouldn't reach them in time to stop them. Lucky, meanwhile, must have hit bone when he bit down. He seemed to be having trouble releasing his grip, and as his target finally collapsed once the current stopped flowing, wrenching his head to the side.

Had I been closer, I might have tried to knock them out barehanded. Maybe. But I doubt it. I'm not a very nice guy sometimes, and after what I'd seen these people do outside I can't honestly say I didn't want to hurt them. The point is moot, however, as they were out of my barehanded reach anyway. So when I drew my katana and slashed them across the throat, cutting off any chance of a scream, I could rest assured my statement to Maylene that I would never use my sword without need was mostly met. They staggered back, falling against each other as they tried to hold their own blood in. To say they met with limited success would be an understatement. I just barely managed to catch the old man's Pokéball as it rolled out of his hand, preventing it from releasing. Spitpyre then stepped in and caught them both in his talons. He finished them quickly, even remembering to press them against the wall to muffle the sharp crack as their necks broke, then lowered them to the floor.

I listened intently, waiting to see if we'd drawn any notice. No sign we'd been detected, so far so good. I signaled my Pokémon, and began padding down the stairs, sticking close to the wall. The stairs were steep, just barely shy of being a ladder. Spitpyre's feathers stood on end in silent testament to his irritation at having to balance his weight on such narrow stairs. On the upside, at least his claws weren't tapping on each of the metal steps.

After a surprisingly long climb, we reached the bottom. While the stairwell had been rather dim, here the area was almost painfully bright. Naked fluorescent lights appeared on the ceiling every five feet or so. The walls and floor were both of pale concrete. The combination was not in any way pleasant, especially after the tap on the head I'd inadvertently given myself. I pressed tightly against the corner and eased out until I could peer around, unable to ask Lucky for help for fear of drawing attention. Thankfully no one was in sight. The only downside I can see to my sword is that the dark coloration of the steel makes it less than useful as a mirror for these situations, no matter how well polished it is at the time. The stairs let out on a long, curving hallway, roughly matching the diameter of the sand dune above. Several doors dotted the outer wall. They appeared to be marked, but I couldn't read the plaques from where I stood. _"Only one way to find out,"_ I thought to myself, and signaling my companions to stay close, I set out to find out what exactly I was stepping in.


	5. Chapter 5

Five: Search and Destroyed

We set foot in the hallway slowly. The place was narrow, made floor to ceiling of concrete. I felt foolish for having mocked my enemy mentally earlier, apparently underground bases were in their budget. Then I noticed a faded Team Galactic emblem set into the floor and understood they were just making use of what had already been here.

Annoyingly enough, the halls were only wide enough for us to move single-file. That was a problem, as whoever was stuck in the middle would always have someone in their line of fire. So, into his ball went Lucky. I wanted Spitpyre out and ready, watching my back.

It took a moment of deliberation, but I decided to follow the hall to my left. The hallway seemed circular, I could see as I moved that if I followed it long enough I'd eventually end up back at the stairs. Now that I was actually in the facility, the plaques on the doors were helpful.

A single door opened on the middle area, into a power room. Taking a quick peek inside, I saw a number of Voltorbs attached to the power grid for the facility. Nothing I could do for them until later, lest I blow my cover, I moved on. Every other door opened off of the outer rim of the hall. I passed one marked "Collection Team Staging Room," another marked "Patricia's Office, Admins Or By Appointment Only," and several others before reaching what seemed like the opposite side from the stairs. While narrow, the hall was longer than I'd thought, and more of an oval than a circle.

This door interested me much more than the others. The plaque was gold, rather than the silver and bronze used everywhere else in the facility. "Admin Arabella Ragno," the lettering proclaimed, also fancier than the others. She'd had it engraved in calligraphy, rather than the simple block letters every other door I had passed used. Typical. Give someone low ranked a position of authority, odds are at least 50/50 it'll go straight to their head.

Now, I needed a plan. I had no idea if my target was actually inside her office, or what the layout behind this door might be. I couldn't use Lucky's x-ray vision either, any signals he or I passed between us would be risky as hell in the quiet corridors. Especially since from my current vantage I could only make out four of the other doors, two to each side. So, the direct approach then. Go in, neutralize any threats save Arabella herself. Make it quick and quiet if possible. If we drew too much attention, take the target hostage and burrow my way out using Maiden. The concrete around us looked strong, but not strong enough to stop a Steelix from digging right through.

That settled, I lightly touched the back of my hand to the knob. I'd run across more than one crook who liked to protect their door with an Electric-type frying the doorknob if touched. Nothing happened. I gripped the knob and very gently turned it, finding it well maintained and thus silent. Nothing continued happening. I pushed the door open, stepped inside and closed it, and scanned the room all in one go.

Still, nothing happened. The room was unoccupied. Well, that was fine by me, I could ambush anyone who came in and have my back to the wall, ready to escape if things went south using my backup plan. It irked me to be waiting again, but it was Arabella's office. Surely she wouldn't stay gone for too long. So, I needed to kill some time.

I brought Lucky back out to watch the door, with Spitpyre still by my side as I set to searching the office. It was lavishly furnished, with wood panels over the concrete walls and a thick burgundy carpet. A plush leather sofa rested against the right wall, and lovely teak bookshelves on the opposite side. A single wooden chair, beautiful but none to comfortable looking, sat in front of a massive mahogany desk, behind which sat an office chair. It too was plush, and tall enough to loom over whoever had the misfortune of sitting before Arabella. The desk was almost pristine, just a small lamp, a PC, and a simple In/Out tray.

More promising was the all black file cabinet under the desk itself, tucked over to the left inside the foot cubby. I drew the drawers open and thumbed through quickly, idly thanking Arabella for being so well organized. It was actually easier to sort through her files than my own.

She must have been supremely confident no one would ever find this place. Financial records for dozens of shady enterprises in several different regions were being kept meticulously. Half of it alone would see her in prison for decades. I made a mental note of several of the locations she had listed. There were outstanding warrants on some of the people she'd put in charge of her drug ring in Kanto, her pimps in Johto, a few others of less import. Though most of them were wanted in a different region than their current assignments, that had never been a concern for me.

Oddly, there was no information to be had on _her_ boss, save a brief memo jotted on her open appointment book. "Boss is getting paranoid, has forbidden all notations of his name and location in any records. We'll humor him, of course. Announce shredding of all such notations at this mornings meeting. Official designation when required to reference him in official orders will be XD000."

I was rooting around under the desk when Lucky gave a very soft growl. My tender head reminded me not to straighten up too quickly, so by the time I was able to sit up the door was already opening.

I had half risen from my crouch, hand falling to grip my sword, when the slowly opening door suddenly burst inward with a bang. Two Pokéballs rolled through the doorway, with both Spitpyre and Lucky leaping back to stand between me and the possible threat.

Before I had even managed to stand fully, the balls opened, out springing a blue East Sea Gastrodon and a Wormadam in a sandy cloak. Lucky immediately charged them, not waiting for orders as I scrambled to recall both of my Pokémon. Too late, his Wild Charge struck the Gastrodon and did absolutely nothing to the slimy Ground-type. Spitpyre didn't even get a chance to move as he was struck full force by a wave of Muddy Water. Screeching as his flame vents clogged and fizzled, the fowl crashed down unconscious. Unfortunately for yours truly, he'd been standing right in front of me when the attack hit. I was smashed back into the wall, and my head appreciated the second impact even less than the first. I was vaguely aware of a mild tremor in the floor, slowly building to something less gentle, when everything went black.

I drifted in and out of consciousness for a time. I was aware of a harsh female shout at one point, and though it was difficult to focus I was able to make out the words of Arabella as she tore into her subordinates for wrecking her office. If they made any attempt to defend their actions, it was lost in the ringing inside my head. Eventually I got close enough to really being awake to want to open my eyes, but the idea alone made me nauseous. Until a spray of cold water hit me in the face, at which point I was shocked into a mild jump that made me fall heavily onto my side even as my eyes flew open.

I managed to not vomit despite the jolt, if only just barely. Lifting my head, I could see just enough to take stock of my surroundings. The formerly pristine and fancy office looked like a disaster area. The entire place stank of stagnant water. The carpet was soaked, the PC would likely never work again, and the wood panel I'd struck was splintered and broken. In the middle of the room, a fissure had opened up into darkness below. Now I knew what that rumbling I'd felt was, the Wormadam must have used Fissure to take Lucky out in one go. Though I hate to admit it, Arabella was right. They'd really overdone it, especially seeing as the fissure hadn't been properly closed to complete the attack.

"He's awake ma'am," I heard, turning to see a Team Aqua uniform on one of the prettiest girls I'd ever seen. Even with her face locked in a combination of annoyance and fear, that heart shaped face and button nose framed by strawberry-blond hair was lovely. Unless that too was the head trauma talking. Arabella waved an impatient hand at the Magma uniformed old man and punk-rocker looking Rocket she'd been berating and dismissed them, already turning to walk over to me.

"Well, what did we catch?" she eyed the room around her in all its devastated glory. "It had better be something important, if my office has been this thoroughly ruined for nothing..."

"Yes ma'am," the pretty girl hurried to answer, handing my card to her boss. "He appears to be some sort of fighter for hire." She leaned back from Arabella, evidently afraid of how her commander might react. She relaxed a bit when Arabella laughed, reading my card and crushing it in her hand.

"What are you here for boy? And how did you find me? I didn't exactly set up a mailbox out front after all. Come now, speak up," she continued to laugh. In fact, as my face contorted in rage, she only laughed harder.

In answer, I threw myself to my feet and tried to draw my sword, fully intending to make her original scar look like a minor skin blemish by carving out her eyes. Except my hand closed on nothing. Stupid, of course they'd take my sword. Arabella only laughed harder. So I punched her in the face instead.

Now, I don't normally condone violence against women. Even though my mother was one of the toughest humans I've ever laid eyes on, she taught me to be kind and gentle with girls when I was a kid and it stuck with me. People like Arabella don't count.

Her head snapped back and she staggered to the side, moving with the force of my punch if only a little. It hadn't been my best attack by any means, I was still dizzy after the blow to the head and having tried to rise so fast. The Aqua jumped back, just barely snagging Arabella's sleeve and hauling her back with her before she could fall right into the same fissure that had claimed Lucky in battle.

I launched a kick at Arabella's knee as she was pulled past, but my balance betrayed me and I nearly fell in myself. Lucky was still at the bottom, mewling pitifully but alive. It made me mad. I began stalking across the room when the bitch pushed her subordinate away and, taking a Pokéball from under he sweater, lobbed it straight at my head. I ducked, hand going to my own balls... and finding my coat was gone too. In the struggle I hadn't even noticed. Before I could sweep the room, hoping it or my sword was still here somewhere, the wings of a Golbat wrapped around me and sharp fangs bit deep into my right bicep. A numbness came over me then, as the Poison Fang took effect.

_"At least,"_ I thought as I once again fell fell unconscious, _"It'll hurt less this way."_ Had I known I would survive this latest "setback" I might have felt more dread...


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six: Dark Cry

Not very many humans get bitten by members of the Zubat family in this day and age. Pokémon attacks are still common occurrences of course, but with a reliable method of taming the beasts to fight for you, actually feeling the sensation of Poison Fang just isn't likely.

This was my first time recovering from such a bite, and let me tell you, it is not as gentle as it first seemed. Though the poison had initially acted on me as a numbing agent, likely the same mechanism that allows Zubat and their evolved forms to feed on the blood of paralyzed prey, I was not numb when I woke up. I was, in fact, something along the lines of the _opposite_ of numb. Everything hurt. Everything. My joints ached, my head was pounding even worse than the blows it had taken would account for. My belly rolled and quaked and cramped horribly and I vomited loudly before I even opened my eyes. Worst of all, my right arm felt like it had been shoved into a Slugma's open mouth, burning and tingling horribly. I barely even noticed, but it itched rather atrociously as well.

"I'm impressed," said a haughty female voice to my right. Despite the voice of reason telling me how much it would suck to do so, I opened my eyes and turned my head to look. Sure enough, I barely fought down the urge to vomit again. "Not many men are strong enough to survive a dose of Golbat venom, even delivered into the muscle," Arabella said with a smirk.

I took in my surroundings through eyes slit against the relatively dim, but still painful light. We were in a room very different from Arabella's office. It was a bit larger, and while well appointed didn't seem nearly as expensive overall. A fireplace crackled merrily on one wall, with glass display cases on either side. They were full of curiosities, many of which were old fashioned weapons. A cutlass here, an old flintlock pistol there. An old naginata with a blade fashioned from the red wing feather of a Skarmory sat beside a full set of Carvahna teeth. I was shackled to a heavy chair facing the fire and cases, while Arabella sat at a desk much like the one in her office, examining my sword and its saya.

"This is an exquisite weapon. I'm no swordswoman myself, mind you," she said, running a finger down the flat of the weapon and then tapping it against the saya to hear the metal chime, "but I am an avid collector, as you can see. This must have cost a small fortune," she continued, angling the blade now so its dark polished metal reflected the red of the flames."

"Unlock me and hand it here, I'll give you a lesson in how its used," I panted. It was gallows humor, of course. As much as I hurt I doubted I could swing the sword effectively even if I was loose.

"Oh, child don't be foolish. If I so much as speak a word, you die. And I'm not quite ready for that yet, are you?" she smiled, and I could tell she meant it to be warm. Friendly even. It didn't touch her eyes. "Men who command Pokémon such as yours, carry such fine weapons, and survive the bite of a Golbat are rare. They shouldn't be wasted," she mused, almost to herself, as she rose from her chair and stalked over to circle me. She seemed to be inspecting me. Which, much as it sickened me when I saw the look on her face, seemed like a good idea. I looked down at myself.

Well, no wonder the chair was so uncomfortable. For some reason I didn't want to consider I'd been stripped naked, save for a clean white bandage on my right arm. They'd even taken my hair tie, leaving my hair loose to fall around my shoulders. I idly noted it was time for a trim, then further noted how strange the thoughts that visit me at such times can be. My hands were fastened directly to the thick arms of the chair at the wrist, while my legs were held in place by chains that left them a bit more wiggle room. Not enough to kick or grapple with unless the target was standing right on top of my feet though.

Next I took stock of Arabella, who by that time was standing in front of me unabashedly examining parts of me I generally don't display before the third date. I growled at her. She just smiled more.

"Avert your eyes ya fucking perv," I slurred drunkenly. I was still loopy from the poison. Or the blow to the head. Maybe both.

"Make me, if you can," she purred back. "Of course, you're chained down, disarmed, and naked. I don't see it happening, do you?"

"Maybe not right now. But you're either going to kill me or unchain me eventually. Either way, I won't have to put up with that rape-face you've got going right now for long." I was seething, but also perplexed. I hadn't expected to wake up at all, but most certainly not like this. "Where are we anyway? How long have I been down?"

"We're in Canalve, dear boy. You've been unconscious for... two days now I believe. I confess I hadn't paid much attention, I expected you to die. I owe Priscilla a raise, she bet on your survival. You owe her even more, I'd have finished you and had done with it without the wager." The bitch was still eying me like a prime cut of meat. "But, since you've survived we can clear up exactly how you found me, why you were looking... and what you're willing to do to walk out of here alive."

"Don't recognize me, do you?" I replied simply, letting myself smirk back now. She took a moment to notice it, but when she did it didn't seem she liked that. So sad.

"I dare say I'd remember meeting such a... well built gentleman before. And apparently a gifted trainer as well. No doubt I'd have offered to recruit you, had we met in the past." She tapped a blood red nail against her lower lip. Had I not known who she was it would have been alluring. "But no matter," she waved a hand dismissively, regaining her smirk and returning to eyeballing me. "Even if we had met, it wouldn't answer my questions."

Ok, so she didn't know who I was. I suppose that was no surprise, I did look rather different from when I was 16. And I hadn't been a very important person back then either. Still, I found it a wee bit insulting. Still, I had to decide what to tell her. I had no delusions that I could refrain from talking indefinitely. People in positions like Arabella's would know how to get someone's mouth flapping, and I wouldn't like the process any more than I would survive what followed. So, time to lie my ass off.

"I was hired by a girl from Kanto," I said, sneering a bit. "Kid paid me $20,000 up front to kill you," I wracked my brain, bringing to mind details from Arabella's case file. Just prior to her arrest during Team Rocket's first downfall, she'd snagged a girl named Leaf's Bulbasaur. Some credited that incident as the reason Leaf had never managed to rise to prominence in competitive circles like her neighbors Red and Blue. The Bulbasaur had never been returned, apparently dying in a battle with Red less than two months later when Arabella's orders had forced him to use lethal force to defend himself.

"Oh, is that silly little twit still upset about that? She should really be focusing on that brat who beat me, but no matter. So, you're a hitman of sorts then? Your cards," she held up an example she'd probably retrieved from my coat, "make you sound more benevolent than that."

"That's what they're there for lady. I do plenty of 'benevolent' work. The cops think that's all I do, keeps em off my back," I said, trying to emulate her wicked grin. It didn't feel like it reached my eyes, but that just made it more authentic.

"Clever boy. I could use someone like you in my organization... if I thought I could trust you. Sadly if you're willing to break your deal with her, I doubt I can."

Shit. She'd come to the same conclusion I'd been steering her towards with my fib, but she was too clever to take the bait it seemed. I let my mind race, looking for a way out of this, and came up empty. I was so close, but my goal was still out of reach. Arabella was idly stroking a nice purple bruise on her cheek and hefting my sword in her hand, apparently considering using it to finish me. At least I'd gotten to hit her before the end.

She didn't get the chance to make up her mind. The gorgeous young Aqua I'd seen when they took me out back in the desert bolted in through a door on my left, past a huge fish tank I'd failed to notice earlier containing a pair of Lumineon. She skidded to a stop, breasts heaving with apparent panic. She took in the sight of Arabella with my sword, then at me... and blushed crimson before suddenly becoming deeply interested in the floor.

"Tiffany!" Arabella snapped at her. "What the _hell_ do you think you're doing barging in here unannounced?"

"Forgive me Admin, but it happened again," the girl, apparently named Tiffany, stammered out with a formal bow. Despite my circumstances, I was curious. What could make a subordinate so panicky as to barge in on her boss like that?

"I have told you before it cannot be helped. Just feed the poor bastard who was afflicted to the Pokémon like the others and..."

"But ma'am, its Priscilla!" Tiffany interrupted, then let out an audible gulp of trepidation. It was clear she didn't want to interrupt the boss like that. It was equally clear she thought the boss would want this info, even if she did retaliate.

"No... Priscilla? Damn it, she is integral to this project, we can _not_ afford to lose her," Arabella almost whispered. For the first time, emotion tinged her eyes aside from amusement or smugness. She was lying, she cared about this one, subordinate or no. My earlier guess that they had worked together before the Rockets disbanded sounded more accurate than ever.

"I know ma'am," Tiffany said, sounding near panic still. "But... there's only one cure. And the sailor died during questioning. No one knows how to get there!" I smelled an opportunity.

"Get where? What's going on?" I asked, working to sound bored. It might be bad to let them see how anxious I was. Confidence and complacence seemed my best bet. Though I hadn't been hitting very well with these sorts of guesses lately. Lucky for me, the girl answered before the boss.

"Several of our personnel have fallen into comas lately. Nothing we can do can wake them up, and they're afflicted by horrible nightmares until eventually their hearts give out. We tried treating them with psychic types... but the Pokémon who looked inside their heads didn't fare any better than they did."

"Tiffany, learn your place!" Arabella all but snarled and slapped the Aqua Grunt across the face with a crack that brought tears to the girl's eyes. It made me angry, though technically this Tiffany was an enemy as well, one I might have to cut down if I got out of this alive. Despite the surge of anger, I felt my eyes widen in shock at the girl's words. I'd heard stories that matched this girl's, of course. I'd even seen an old man afflicted with the condition she spoke of once, locked in an endless nightmare at Byron's shack on Iron Island.

Darkrai. The "Pitch-Black Pokémon." It was the only creature known that had that particular power. According to rumor among the Gym Leaders and other League officials, a girl named Dawn had encountered it once during her research as Prof. Rowan's assistant, and attempted to capture the Legendary Pokémon for the Pokédex. She'd survived to tell the tale, but come back empty handed with her entire team in shambles. The International Police apparently had a record of the event from her statement, but it was sealed. Looker had refused to let me look into it at all.

"Darkrai doesn't like you being here I take it. I guess I'm lucky to have woken up even without taking the venom into account eh?" I said, forcing a tone both jovial but unconcerned. "Too bad you apparently gacked the old man who knew the way to Full Moon Island eh? Gee, its too bad there isn't a hired gun sitting around who knows the way out there to fetch you a Lunar Wing. Just sitting around, naked and all too willing to take it as a loyalty test before joining up with you. Oh well, might as well get on with the killing me then." I raised my head, giving an open shot to behead me with my own sword, and grinned. If this didn't work, at least I'd die with a smile.

"You know where to find Cresselia?" Arabella hissed, whirling to face me. The edge of my katana barely missed my chin as she carelessly spun. It was a good thing I had raised my head as I did, or that might have cost me an eye. But her reaction revealed her eagerness. I could work this angle, if I was careful enough on the inside and cavalier on the outside.

"Sure do. I told you, I do a lot of so-called benevolent work, if it pays. I paid a visit to that island once. And I remember the way, so long as I start from the right place. I'd be willing to show you how to get there, if I get to live." I smiled wider. My cheeks were starting to hurt, but I couldn't afford to look to eager and give myself away. Had to stay in character as the shiftless assassin, devoid of loyalty. Couldn't afford to have her catch on to the real me now.

"Why not just torture you until you tell me? Or have a Psychic-type go in and rip the information out of your head?" She almost seemed to be asking herself more than me, but I felt the need to answer her anyway.

"Because I suck at giving directions," I said, smirking all the more because it was true. No one would ever find their way off my verbal instructions. "I'd end up telling you if you tortured me, but that'd do you no good. And I doubt even an Alakazam would make any more sense of it than you, lady. Plus, if you damage me or break my brain, how are you gonna have your way with me once I get you the Wing?" I said, winking. My stomach crawled with it, but it seemed to work when her eyes dropped back below my waist.

"Tiffany," she said more softly, "come with me. We need to work out this operation. Minimal risk. And we only have a week or so to work with," she took a last lusty glance at me and walked out, Tiffany close on her heels. Oddly, the girl cast a look full of scorn my way before following.

The next morning, I got my clothes back, coat and all. But there were only two Pokéballs in the pockets, Bruce and Big Bird. The others were being kept as insurance. They kept my sword and PokéGear as well, and my empty balls on top of that, but they returned the rest of the contents of my travel pack and my Pokétch. They didn't want me calling anyone or killing my escort, after all. I was warned my other Pokémon would be put through the same sort of brutality as their training specimens I had seen if I failed.

Thus I found myself missing the familiar weight of my katana, with my coat billowing differently than I was used to due to the lesser weight, as big Bird flew me towards Iron Island. Close behind me was Tiffany, soaring along astride her Pelliper. Big Bird was faster than the heavy sea-bird, and I could have easily escaped from her. But that would leave four of my team in enemy hands and at their nonexistent mercy. I couldn't have that, so I ignored Big Bird's shrieking protests and ordered her to keep an even pace.

We'd set out at dawn from Canalave City, riding the thermal updrafts off the ocean as the sun came up over the horizon. I'd been surprised to learn the place they'd held me was a brothel. Apparently Arabella's "side business" I'd heard her speak to the boss about. Sadly I'd been unconscious and restrained during his visit to have his freebie. It irked me to know that I could have gotten both at once otherwise. I'd almost slipped in my act when they let me loose, there were more than human prostitutes there. Apparently some deranged individuals had a thing for human-shape Pokémon, and they had a stock of mons to cater to them. Jynx, Kirlia, and Gardevoir, as well as a few unlucky Lopunny. I'd be sure to deal with that later. As soon as my friends were free, there would be a reckoning. For the time being, I'd had to pretend to be fine with it. I'd told Arabella it "wasn't my thing" while oogling her breasts and winking. That seemed to satisfy her, albeit a little too much for my taste. The odds of my letting her live long enough to deliver her to Looker were getting slimmer.

Tiffany was sent as my "escort" for the mission. Which is an official sounding way of saying she was my leash. She had five mons with her to my two. And she'd made sure I saw that there was a Lanturn among them. If I tried anything, my Flying and Water Pokémon would be fried in short order, and I'd be stunned senseless and dragged back to base. Even without the others being held hostage, escape wasn't overly likely.

I didn't try to make small talk as we flew. Trying to yell back and forth to each other would be futile while speeding along atop our Flying-types. But I did sneak a peek at her now and then. Not encouraging, she gave me hostile glares at every opportunity. When she failed to notice me peeking, she seemed to spend most of her time petting her Pelliper lovingly. Interesting. Even those few who professed to care about their mons among groups like hers didn't normally mean it as other trainers do. I might be able to use that.

"Recall your bird," was the first thing I heard when we landed. "You get one out at a time unless we're attacked." Reluctantly, I called Big Bird back and tucked her ball into my coat before I turned around. Tiffany already had her Lanturn out, resting in the surf behind her and ready to lash out with any number of possible attacks.

"Paranoid aren't you? We're gonna be working together soon if all goes well, show some trust will ya?" I checked my pack and found the rations I'd had in there had been spoiled by the wave of muck the damned Gastrodon had hit me with. "Shit, I should have checked these before we left. You bring any food with you?"

"No. I doubt it'll kill you to miss a meal," she looked at me with cold eyes.

"Probably not, but surfing from here we're apt to miss closer to six," I laughed, doubly so at the surprise in her eyes. "I told you it was a long trip. I could make it in half the time on my Sharpedo, but your Lanturn couldn't keep up if he started jet-blasting. Not for long. We could just fly, of course... except I don't know the way by air and neither does Big Bird." I rooted around in my pack and came up with a collapsable fishing rod. "Looks like we're getting our own supper if it comes to that."

"And do what, eat it raw?" she scoffed.

"Never had to rough it have you? Your Lanturn can cook it. Or, yeah we can eat it live and wriggling if we have to," I leered at her.

"Her name is Shine Spark, thank you," she tried to growl. It sounded about as threatening as a scared Meowth kitten... but then those are pretty dangerous when they try.

"Nice to meet you Shine Spark," I said with a wave at the big angler fish. It blinked, surprised, and wiggled its light at me in greeting. Tiffany just scowled again.

"Don't go thinking you're gonna get on my good side by pretending to be nice to my Pokémon, dick." She walked out into the surf and hopped up onto the Electric/Water-type's back. I tried not to notice how her tight pants fit with her mounted that way, but failed. I'm only human. I waded out and sent out Bruce, who glared menacingly at the other fish, but kept his distance. He wasn't interested in getting his scaled blackened again.

"Kiss your mother with that mouth?" I hopped up to get a good seat behind his dorsal fin, and waved northeast. We set off, with me idly wishing I'd brought some sunglasses. It was bright as hell out there.

By noon, we'd turned west at a single rocky spire that jutted up from the sea below. My stomach was rumbling now that my poison-induced nausea had passed. I started casting my line, hoping for something edible to bite.

"Is that really necessary?" the girl demanded rudely, but her heart wasn't in it. She was clearly hungry as well.

"If you wanna make it to the island with your mind working right, yeah it is. I'm not overly fond of seafood myself, but I'll take what I can get. Its too bad there don't seem to be any Wingull up on that spire, I'd prefer poultry if I could get it." I pulled up the line and cast again, back the way we'd come. Bruce continued to float along at a slow pace, resting while he could.

"In case you didn't notice, I was a member of Team Aqua. We kind of loved Water-types, we didn't usually _eat_ them," she countered, patting Shine Spark. I chortled, which only earned me a higher intensity glare.

"In case _you_ didn't notice," I replied, wiggling my lure a bit, "we're both riding creatures who's primary diet consists of Water-types. I don't think they'll mind, unless I fish up a relative. Only certain Grass-types don't have to eat _something_. Well, ok and some Ghosts." I forestalled her reply as my pole bent double, nearly yanking me off Bruce's broad back. "Got something!"

To my disappointment, what came up was a Tentacruel, and a big one at that. Not edible. I released it the only way I could without a fight, I cut the line and got a new lure out as it dove back into the depths.

"You're not going to hurt it?" the girl asked. She looked puzzled, which of course she would with my heartless killer act I'd been doing.

"No sense in it. It's not good to eat, it wasn't attacking, and Bruce doesn't need a workout right now, do ya big guy?" I patted the shark's gills carefully. "And he wouldn't want to eat it either, so why bother with a fight?"

"Just... doesn't seem like something you'd do." She was looking at me thoughtfully. Fuck, I was about to blow my cover. No way to counter the damage I'd done without making myself look stupid, and therefore less than useful. So I just pulled up my line and nudged Bruce back up to speed. I'd try again when we were further along.

About two hours later, we rested again, cracking the shell of a Krabby I'd hooked, followed by Shine Spark helping prepare it. I absolutely hated the smell and taste, but I soldiered on. The body has needs after all. Tiffany on the other hand seemed to be enjoying it, despite her attempts not to. The same thing seems to happen to a lot of vegetarians when they're forced to eat meat, as I found out once when a search party I joined got trapped on the side of Stark Mountain with no vegetation nearby.

"You seem awfully gentle for someone who works with Arabella and her lot," I mused, resisting the urge to spit out the fishy, flaky mouthful of flesh I'd been trying to chew.

"Mind your own business," she replied, trying not to smile around her own claw-meat.

"If I was any good at minding my own business I wouldn't be here," I shot back. "Seriously, of all the Teams yours and Magma were the least nasty overall, even if they did cause some of the biggest trouble. You don't seem bad enough to still be doing this girl. And you don't seem to like what they have you doing. So what gives?" She chewed on her thoughts, and her Krabby, for a minute or two as we drifted.

"I was looking for someone. My uncle, he was a Magma back in the old days. We were on opposite sides, but we're family ya know? I found him, working for Arabella. And he back-stabbed me. They take my Pokémon after every mission they send me on. They always keep one even when they send me out." Her explanation paused as she tossed the remains of her meal to her Lanturn. "Same thing they'll do to you if you live through this. I can't run away, or they'll..." she let out a quiet sound instead of finishing. It wasn't quite a sob, but it was near enough.

"That's harsh. Which means I say fuck that," I let the jovial, capricious tone I'd been faking leave me, replacing it with what I really felt. Which was one part anger on my behalf and hers, two parts sympathy for her situation. Bruce perked up at once, one eye rolling back to look at me. I could almost translate the set of his gills and the tension under my ass to words, something like "Are you insane?" But I had a hunch that I was on the right track. "I'm not an assassin, Tiffany. I call myself a PokéMercenary, so I _am_ a hired gun, but I don't take that kind of job. I'm working for the police. Taking Arabella down is my job at the moment." The girl was looking at me like I was nuts. I didn't blame her.

"You expect me to believe that?" she laughed at me as our mons picked up the pace, following the heading I'd given them from the tiny spit of an island I remembered from my last trip out this way. "How stupid do you think I am?"

"I don't. I think once you believe me, you'll be smart enough to help me get us both out of this. But don't take my word for it." I lifted a hand to shade my eyes and pointed to a dark smudge on the horizon ahead of us. "Ask Cresselia," I intoned dramatically. "If I'm really the kind of person I've been pretending to be, she won't hesitate to toss me off her island."

Full Moon Island was just ahead. We'd arrive there in another hour at the current pace.


	7. Chapter 7

_Author's Note: This is a shorter chapter than I usually like, but the events described here are something I wanted to be set apart from anything else. Next one should be a bit longer I hope._

Chapter Seven: Banding Together

Fullmoon Island. Only a handful of people know how to get there, and most of them are sworn to secrecy by powerful individuals. And there is a very good reason for that. As I waded up the beach, calling Bruce back into his Pokéball, my mind turned to hours and days I had spent studying, preparing for the possibility of the worst sort of job I could possibly be hired for. The sort of job I almost certainly wouldn't survive, but would be unable to turn down and live with myself.

Pokémon of all kinds are potentially powerful beyond human capability. From the lowliest Wurmple to the mighty Torterra, all but the weakest individuals are a match for any mere human. Excepting freakish individuals like Maylene of course. But as strong as they are, there are creatures in this world who are on another level entirely. Different cultures have given them different names and descriptions over time. Some call them Mirages, as if they do not exist, which is fair enough since it can be hard to prove they do. Others have called them gods, and their power bears that idea out at times. Most of the world calls them Legendary Pokémon in the modern age. And messing with them is always a bad idea.

Need an example? Some folks are lucky enough to live far, far away from any area where a Legendary mon dwells, and even those nearby their homes don't cause trouble normally. So if you don't know what I mean I'm not surprised. Over in the Orre Region, members of the group known as Cipher once managed to capture the mighty beast known as Lugia, and corrupt it through their bizarre science so thoroughly that its outward appearance was altered horribly. It managed to carry a massive cruise ship several miles before dropping it in the desert, and this was simply a weapons test of sorts. But that isn't the example. When Lugia disappeared from its nest below the waves off the coast of Johto, three other Legends descended on the countryside in a rage. Articuno, Zapdos, and Moltres, the Legendary Birds of Kanto, swarmed from their native shores to Johto in a fury. They whipped up freezing blizards, horrible electrical storms, and fire ravaged the nation. Casualties were kept to a minimum by the Gym Leaders and the Elite Four, who mobilized immediately, but they were only able to drive the birds off temporarily or stall them long enough for evacuations. Even in defeat the creatures would manage to fly too far away to be captured, and would simply rise again within a few days. And those defeats were rare indeed. Whenever presented with a foe that held type advantage over one of them, it would call for help from its fellows. Try to take Moltres down using its weakness to Rock-types? Here comes Articuno. It continued like that for weeks. The attacks didn't cease until Lugia was purified and freed from captivity, returning to its home in Johto beneath the Whirl Islands. Only then did the Bird Trio migrate peacefully back to their own roosts. And the Bird Trio are not the strongest Legendary Pokémon by any stretch of the imagination.

And here I was, walking right into the nest of a terribly powerful Legendary of my own (mostly) willing volition. I'd have turned and run right back into the surf if not for two things: My team was counting on me to get them to safety, and Cresselia was one of the more gentle of the Legendary Pokémon... if you didn't offer a threat. If I somehow did... even Bruce's Dark-typing wouldn't protect me for long against her.

"I still don't get what you mean," Tiffany whispered, wading up beside me. "How am I going to ask Cresselia anything?"

"The fact that I'm standing on the island pretty much proves I'm not a deranged killer as I've been pretending to be, Tiff." I scanned the dark forests that covered the majority of the small island. "If she thought I was a threat I'd have probably been torn apart by a Psycho Cut by now." I didn't whisper. I did _not_ want the creature somewhere among those trees to think I was trying to sneak up on her. "And speak up. Let her know you're here. Sneaky critters are a threat. She doesn't like threats."

"The data I've seen said this Cresselia is a Psychic-type," she was dusting sand off her pants now as we walked slowly towards the forest. "You don't think your Sharpedo could handle her?"

"Don't even think thoughts like that. She might hear you. And no, he couldn't. He'd put up a nasty fight to defend me, but he's... not in her weight class." I sighed and turned towards her. "Look, last time I was here, it was for the same reason. Darkrai induced nightmares had caught up with an old man, who I found on Iron Island. Byron, the gym leader who owns the place, sent me here to find the Lunar Wing. He had to stay to defend the old man, a swarm of Hypno somehow found him and were trying to get in and eat his dreams. He'd have died even faster without a guard. And he sent another guy with me, a supposedly reformed Galactic Grunt who had joined his gym."

"So what happened?" she asked, eyes growing wide. She might have been skeptical about my story, but it was a good one either way. I'm a sucker for a good story myself, I recognized the look.

"He wasn't so reformed as he claimed. We found the Pokémon roosting at the center of this island. And while I tried to approach in the most non-threatening way I knew how, he chucked a Quickball at her. She shattered it without even a single shake, like it was no struggle at all. Then her eyes lit up... and he was in two pieces before he hit the ground, and when I turned to look she had moved twenty feet. She used Psycho Cut, and I couldn't have reacted fast enough to fight her even if I tried." I scuffed at the ground. I really didn't want to be here. As gentle as she seemed, Tiffany was twice a member of criminal organizations. Whether she wanted to be there or not, Cresselia might see her as a threat. And I'd done some nasty things in the line of duty since my last visit here as well. It was nerve wracking.

"How did you get out alive?" The girls eyes were wider still now, but not with interest this time. I wasn't the only one with a sudden case of nerves.

"I tossed my sword to the side and dropped to my knees," I recalled, remembering the painful dig of roots and stone beneath my knees. "And bowed to her like the most humble farmer meeting an Emperor. She flew off... but where she'd been hovering over me was the Wing. She knew why I was there. She let me help the old man."

"If she's so gentle and helpful to non-threats, why are we shaking in our boots here?" Though she still looked nervous, she suited action to words and set off again at a quick but cautious pace. I swallowed nervously and followed.

The interior of the little island had changed in the years since my last appearance there. Where before it had been relatively open forest, the ground was now choked with brush and vines. I kept a wary eye out and wished I had Lucky with me. The only Pokémon on the island had been Cresselia prior, but now any number of creatures could have moved in. As if a potent Legendary wasn't tough enough on its own, all I needed was to stumble right into a Carnivine's mouth or trip over a sleeping Roselia. I'd had quite enough of being poisoned already.

It took hours to find our way through those woods. My arm burned at full ferocity again as I clawed my way through the tangled brush that had once been an open path. Despite the rest it'd had, using it so strenuously did not seem to agree with it. I felt blood trickling under my bandage, and knew I'd need a new one soon. I almost wished for my sword to help carve a path, but it seemed better upon reflection not to have it when we arrived. Trying to be non-threatening is tough when you've spent your entire adult life working to be seen as a badass merc who'd just assume slash a foe open as look at them.

Tiff let me take the lead, using my boots and greater physical strength to batter vegetation down and form a crude path for her to follow. Though I suspect it just occurred to her that she wasn't a very good guard if I was behind her. So it was that I was the first to burst noisily into a mostly circular clearing in the center of the island, trees ringing a crescent shaped pond. Even in the dark forest, the reflection of the moon overhead, risen above us during our hike, was almost painfully bright. Brighter, in fact, than the actual moon itself. And brighter still was the serene Pokémon resting beside the clear waters.

Though I'd laid eyes on her before, Cresselia took my breath away. She wasn't enormous, as one might expect from a massively powerful Legend. But she wasn't a tiny thing either, even resting on the ground she would be only a foot or so shorter than I, taller than Lucky. She shone in shades of gold, pink and lavender, with loops of some sort in place of feet or wings, and a third such ring rising like a rainbow from her waist, all joined together. As my breath caught from the sight of her, her gold crested head turned to regard me with one pink eye and I felt a crawling sensation inside my head as the powerful Psychic-type looked inside me. It wasn't the first time a Psychic-type had scanned my thoughts with its powers. But with Cresselia, it felt less invasive. Less like someone shoving their way into my personal space, and more akin to someone looking over my shoulder to see what I was looking at, if you will. She sounded her cry, a soft pitched, almost friendly and musical arrangement of notes. She remembered me.

When her eyes moved to Tiffany, she cried out again, more questioning this time. Tiffany flinched noticeably as the powerful being's mind touched hers, but she stood steady after the initial shock. Cresselia looked on, inscrutable and majestic. And then she dipped her head a bit, and I felt she was welcoming us.

"If I was a bad sort," I looked over my shoulder to see Tiffany's jaw nearly touching her chest, "she'd have killed me or fled by now. Maybe both. She sees our hearts and our minds." I stopped a respectful distance away and bowed at the waist. It might not have natural meaning to Cresselia, but she'd seen inside my head twice now. She knew what it meant, coming from me. "If she trusts me, so should you."

Tiff opened her mouth, hesitating in speaking before the mighty, graceful creature. Cresselia loosed another cry, louder this time, and twitched her head at me. I don't know to this day if she was sending her meaning to us with her powers, or if it was just that easy to understand, but my brain had no trouble translating what she meant, and I later learned that Tiffany felt the same way. I could picture a voice, feminine, somehow both ancient as rock yet young as fresh grass, saying simply "He's right."

"I guess... maybe we're going to be friends then," the girl said in an awestruck voice. "But first, I guess we still have to help Priscilla. Much as I don't want to, Darkrai won't ACK!" her sentence cut out as Cresselia loosed her cry a final time. This time it was neither gentle nor restrained, and my hands snapped up to cover my ears. It did no good, the cry was just as much inside my head as it was in my ears. Cresselia's pink eyes flared red with psychic energy that crackled and popped like lightning, before she rose off the ground and spiraled away into the sky. "The hell was that all about?" Tiff exclaimed. I suppressed a laugh, she demanded this answer from the ground where she'd fallen on her ass in shock. It wouldn't be nice to laugh at a new friend. Besides, I was only on my feet because I'd managed to snag a tree branch overhead with my good arm as I fell.

"She doesn't like Darkrai much. She's probably on her way to have words with him. Or battle him, same difference really." I chuckled openly at that as I ambled forward to pick up a glowing feather nearly the length of my arm, curved into a crescent identical to the pond upon which it floated. "But she left what we need behind," I nodded to the Lunar Wing in my hand before slipping it into my pack for safe keeping. I was glad to get it out of my hands, it tingled with energy as if it had a live current running through it. To this day, I can't decide if those things are actual feathers or manifestations of Cresselia's power. At the time, I just thanked my lucky stars that the encounter had gone so well.

"So we can head home now?" the girl asked, and I held out my hand to her.

"Tell Shine Spark to watch for Tentacool and the like, and its a deal. We just survived an encounter with a being of legend and renown. No sense getting dragged into the depths after that." I grinned as I hauled my new ally to her feet. "That'd just be embarrassing."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight: Rescue Mission

"I had to open my big mouth," I called to Tiff with a laugh. When we'd set out from Fullmoon Island, I hadn't really been expecting trouble. After all, we'd had to actively look for Pokémon when my stomach needed filling on the trip out. The trip back had been much the same, up to a point.

"You sure did!" she yelled back. There was no laughter in her voice. "Spark, above us!" she called to her Lanturn, who launched a blast of electricity at the Gyrados that had been diving toward her from above. The discharge turned in mid-air, becoming a striking bolt of lightning... that missed by ten feet, briefly lighting up a patch of darkened water well away from us.

"That's the trouble with Thunder," I said, still laughing. "It hits like a truck, _if_ it hits." I ducked as a flailing tentacle swiped at my head. I patted Bruce urgently, losing a bit of skin as I did. He obeyed the signal not to bite, but he wasn't happy about it. I was running quite low on antidotes though, and didn't need him poisoning himself. It was still miles to shore. "Big Bird, give Tiff some cover would ya?" I called, missing Lucky and Maiden. I'd have loved to have an Electric-type with me to fry the enemy, or at least a Steel-type to soak up all the poison being thrown my way. Big Bird wasn't all that well suited to any of our current foes. "Hit it with a Wing Attack!" The Predator Pokémon circling overhead shrieked as she flew in close to comply. The Gyrados broke off its attack on Tiff to deal with it.

"Shine Spark, I need that Tentacruel out of the way. Charge Beam this time, please," Tiff said. Now that a pissed off Gyrados wasn't barreling down on her, she sounded perfectly calm. She was a smooth operator, I could see why Arabella went to so much trouble to keep her around.

I didn't watch the beam of electrical energy tear into the Tentacruel. I'd seen what that move can do, and from the intensity of the glare I doubted I'd be ducking tentacles for the rest of the fight. Instead, I goaded Bruce into action. Big Bird was holding his own, avoiding damage easily so far. But he hadn't been able to hurt the Gyrados very badly either, only make it angrier. So Bruce got its attention.

Hanging onto a Sharpedo when it starts sending a jet of water out to move at max speed isn't difficult, not as rough as their skin is. It isn't fun either, but at least you don't run the risk of falling off. Not normally. When you've just demanded they use Take Down on an opponent ten feet above them though, its a bit less fun than it might be otherwise, and a whole lot more difficult. I trusted in the thick leather sleeves of my coat to keep my arms more or less intact as I wrapped them around Bruce's tall dorsal fin and grit my teeth as he surged upward. The impact that ran through him almost pitched me over it, but once more I hung on as we fell back into the surf.

Bruce shook his head dazedly. I don't enjoy using Take Down much, or any move that hurts my own Pokémon really. If he'd known another move the Gyrados wouldn't resist in one way or another I'd have passed on it. But at least it did what it was meant to do. The enormous Water/Flying-type flew in a drunken circle for a moment, dazed and off Big Bird's back. She wasn't stupid, she backed off and cleared our allies' line of fire. The Lanturn swung her lamp into alignment and a second Charge Beam surged forth. A few seconds later, the Gyrados plunged into the still waters with another tremendous splash.

"Nice shot Shine Spark," I said amiably. I said it through grit teeth, all the splashing had gotten salt water into my fresh scrapes, but I said it. The angler-fish almost seemed to smile as she moved through the waves to float alongside Bruce. In fact, she almost seemed to smile at my own fish. I made a note not to leave them alone together, at least until I could remember if they shared an egg-group.

"Pair of nice shots," Tiff corrected me, jerking her chin at the lump of jelly that had been a Tentacruel a few seconds earlier. It was a big lump, I'd never seen a Tentacruel that big. "Not that you three didn't hold your own," she said a moment later as Big Bird landed on the floating carcass of an Octillery. She tore into it, and no one objected. She'd felled the thing one-on-one, despite its repeated attempts to shoot her down with its cannons. It had gotten pretty close with Rock Blast one or twice, but Big Bird had managed to use Fly to excellent effect. It hadn't hit her very often.

"Damn straight," I said with a grin. "Hey, you hungry big guy?" I asked Bruce. I needn't have asked, he'd already headed for the Gyrados corpse. Battle can give him an appetite. "Oh hell, can I bum a ride for a bit Tiff? Just till he's done, I'd rather not ride the rest of the way splattered in gore."

"So what was that all about?" Tiff asked as we stepped out of the surf and back onto Iron Island. Once the carnivores had had their fill, it hadn't taken long to finish our trek. Though I was watching Bruce even closer now as I returned him to his ball, he'd actually shared some of the Gyrados with Shine Spark. Not like him at all. "I've never seen three unrelated wild mons attack at once like that."

"I think we got in the way of an ambush," I said, running the first few seconds of the attack through my head. The Gyrados came up fast and took to the air with the Octillery in its jaws. But it bumped Bruce as it came. I'm guessing that's why it dropped its prey. The Octillery started shooting at everything in sight. The Gyrados thought we were stealing its kill. The Tentacruel probably just came to see what the commotion was all about and got sucked into the battle." An unlucky coincidence that had luckily been for the Tentacruel rather than us. "How's your Peilliper?" I asked.

"Out cold," she sounded upset as the energy from the Great Ball coalesced into the large bird. "He ate a stray Rock Blast right off the bat, and the Octillery kept shooting until he went down." She pried his bill open and dropped a revive on his tongue. A moment later, he was awake, if not entirely happy. "Sorry you missed all the fun Pete," she comforted him, and herself, leaning against her Pokémon and stroking his ruffled feathers. Girl really cared about her mons. "So, Devil," she smirked at my name, "what's the plan now?"

"I need to get my Pokémon back. You said they keep yours when you're not on a mission, right? And even when you are they keep one hostage?" She nodded. "Where do they keep them?"

"They keep mine at the brothel," she replied. "Since that's where we're going, I assume yours are still there as well. Its where my handler," the edge in her voice told me her handler was the uncle who had betrayed her, "is stationed. Yours will end up wherever your handler is, once you get one."

"Yeah, not happening. I've used this team for years. They'd rather be dead than stick with this crowd," I growled, thinking that I would too. "Especially Spitpyre. No, we're busting out. Me, my team, we're not gonna work for Arabella and her goons." I turned to see the pretty little Aqua looking at me like I was insane. "And I'm not leaving yours with them either. What kind of Pokémon are they holding of yours?"

"I have six of my own. These two you know, of course," she said, patting her Pelliper and the ball containing the Lanturn my Sharpedo was apparently taken with. "I've also got a Corphish, a Huntail, Slowbro, and a Gastrodon," she said wistfully. She missed them. "But I don't see how we're going to get to them. We're outgunned so badly, and you're hurt. They'll take these four from us the moment we get back, and hurt us if we don't give them up."

"Trust me," I said with a smile.

We flew back to Canalave. Even though it isn't too far by air, it was close to noon by the time we arrived. What with the delays caused by our battle (and Pete's injuries from the fight) on top of the already lengthy Surf from Fullmoon, it was no surprise. We touched down in front of the Pokémon Center, where I stopped to refresh my diminished team. Tiff didn't protest, she beat me inside. After all, Pete was still injured.

We headed back to the brothel, though I had to remind her she was supposed to be my guard on the way. And that she was supposed to hate me, at that. She put up a good act, glaring angrily at me. And making sure to walk behind me once more with a hand on her Lanturn's ball, as she had when we first set out. Inside, I went straight to Arabella's office, slipping back into the act I'd put on for her earlier. To my disquiet, the chair she'd had me shackled in was still there.

The Rocket looked up when I walked in, annoyance and worry warring on her face. I hadn't bothered to knock. Even if I had any respect for her, which I did not, it wouldn't have suited my act to be polite. She stilled when she saw me, and rose excitedly.

"You're back so soon? Tell me you had success. Come now, don't keep me waiting." I was sure of it now, she cared about this Priscilla more than I'd have ever expected. I didn't answer, instead I dragged up the chair, pretending not to care that it had once kept me prisoner, and slouched in it like I couldn't give a Rattata's ass about any of this. "Tiff, report. Now!" Oh yeah, I had her worked up.

I took a look around while Tiff told the story of our little visit to Fullmoon Island, leaving out the bits where I revealed my true identity to her. It made Cresselia sound much less frightening than she really is, hearing it like that. She also went on a tirade about my causing her to have to murder three beautiful Water-types that was perfectly in character with how she'd treated me prior to the revelation that I'm not really a murdering dick. She wasn't entirely faking that part, killing the Gyrados and Tentacruel had really bothered her.

It kept Arabella's full attention, and gave me a chance to look around without her caring. Inside her display case, I could see my katana resting beside four Pokéballs. I'd expected that. With her obvious sexual interest in me, it was no wonder that Arabella had decided to handle me personally. Spitpyre, 'Scicle, Iron Maiden, and Lucky were just a few feet away. I had almost decided to do the risky thing and smash my way in to retrieve them when my hated enemy got my attention again.

"Well, it looks like you passed your interview. Give me the two Pokémon you were allowed to take with you, and the Wing," she held out her hand, speaking in a voice both sweet and thick like honey "and then we can discuss what sort of uniform you'd like. I think, personally, that you'd look dashing in Rocket black." The urge to vomit hit me, but I managed a grin and put Bruce and Big Bird in her hands, even caressing her fingers flirtatiously as I did so.

"I'd like to be there when you wake your friend up," I said with a wink. "Then perhaps you'll let me take you out to dinner to celebrate."

Dinner would have been good, had I been in better company. Nice thick Tauros steaks, seasoned just so, are a favorite meal to me. I've heard some people say that the imported meat from the Boufalant is better, but for me Tauros tastes like home. It wasn't the first, nor the worst of the times Arabella had spoiled a memory of home for me. But it still galled to smile and flirt with her through that. My underhanded plan for the night helped me keep it up though.

Although this was my first time in a situation like this one, I did have some experience with misdirection and sleight of hand. I kept her wine glass full, without ever so much as sipping from mine. By the time dinner and dessert were through, my plan was working fine. She was more than three sheets to the wind when I opened the door of the brothel. She was leaning drunkenly on me, giggling at nothing, when we passed the bouncer on duty. He quirked an eyebrow at me, and I just shrugged and said "Boss lady celebrated too hard." I foisted him off on her, proclaiming I didn't know where her room was and that she was too drunk to show me the way. Arabella tried to protest, but I kissed her on the cheek and told her we'd finish celebrating when I was sure she'd remember it. She tittered again and let her subordinate lead her up the stairs. Then I let my grin disappear and headed for her office.

The key-ring I'd stolen when I leaned in to kiss her had more than twenty keys on them. Luckily for me, they were as neatly labeled as the files in her now-ruined office at the secret base in the desert had been. I found the key to the office, and the display case as well. Then I slipped inside and locked the door behind me. I looked around one more time. I had an excuse in case I'd missed a surveillance system during my previous visits to this room, and I figured Arabella was too drunk to refute it if it came to that. Still, this was the part of the plan where things got dangerous. I didn't want to get my ass kicked in like last time. So far so good, however. I popped open the case.

My sword went back where it belonged, and I sighed in relief at its familiar weight on my hip. And better yet, I could sense the eagerness coming from the six balls that had been setting alongside it. Pokémon are often much more aware of what's going on outside their artificial habitats than people realize. Palmette taught me that the day she died. Most people don't have a reason to suspect it. I scooped up my friends and ordered them properly in their pockets, working by the texture of their balls in the dark. Spitpyre, Lucky, Big Bird, Bruce, 'Scicle, then Iron Maiden each lined up in their usual order. Then I snagged my pack from where it had been stowed under Arabella's desk and checked it over. The PokéGear was still missing, but everything else was still there. I still needed to buy antidotes, but other than that I was in good shape. I hoisted it over one shoulder and headed out, walking confidently as if I owned the place.

It was late now. The business had been closed for the last two days while the situation with Priscilla was cleared up, so no customers came and went. The place operated by appointment anyway, they couldn't exactly have people coming in off the street. The only people I knew were awake were the doctors Ms. Ragno had with her recovering subordinate, and the bouncer watching the door. So I got the run of the place as I sought out a particular room on the first floor.

Tiff's uncle was right where she'd said he would be. Despite his being fairly low in the organization, his age kept him out of the field. He'd also earned himself some pull with the boss by bringing in a capable agent when he turned on Tiff. Thus, he got the relatively safer job as security here at Arabella's whore house, rather than being stuck on the collection team or conducting other work. And keeping his niece in line, of course. It was that last bit that had me seeking him out.

He woke up as I entered, but I had my sword touching his throat before he could rise or call for help. Despite the angry glare he sent at me, so much like the one his niece had only recently abandoned, he was smart enough to freeze.

"Hi Frank. Care to point to your niece's Pokémon for me? Its time they had a better keeper."

I kept the sword in place, the tip resting against his throat. He didn't dare speak or move his head, but he remained defiant. His hand came up, but rather than point it made a different gesture entirely. A rather rude one at that.

"Frank used Brave Bird," I chuckled at my own joke. "Too bad, I seem to resist that." I rooted around in the pocket of my coat and came up with the pack of smokes I'd bought while out with Arabella. But of course, when I tried to light one, nothing happened. My lighter had suffered through that assault by the damned Gastrodon as much as my other gear. And the old man was still not budging. Time to kill two Tailows with one Rock Slide, as they say. I called out Spitpyre. "Hey buddy, give me a light would ya?" I asked with a grin.

I didn't take my eyes off of Frank, but I could see the Blaziken's three talons as he moved his right hand below my coffin nail. He snapped his fingers, sparks leaping from them brightly in the dark room, and Ember flared into existence in his open palm. It lasted only a moment, but was more than enough to light up on. I inhaled with satisfaction, all the more so for how wide Frank's eyes had suddenly gotten.

"Thanks Pyre. So, Frank... you don't mind me calling you Frank right? Good," I never gave him a chance to answer that, since I didn't care. "You wanna pull your head out of your ass and point to Tiff's Pokémon now? Or do you need a light too?"

He pointed.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine: Best Laid Plans

"You're insane!" Tiff hissed at me as we skulked up the stairs of Arabella's brothel. To be fair, she sort of had a point. Here we were, hostages recovered, totally free to escape our previously enforced stay with the criminal group. And I was heading up the stairs instead of out the door.

"I'm not leaving without Arabella," I growled back softly. "No one is making you come with me."

"Oh yeah, I'll just slip on out and leave the guy who saved my Pokémon from slavery all on his own," she hushed as I held up a hand for silence, but continued as if I had never interrupted when I signaled the all clear to move into the hall, saying "Not gonna happen."

"Then quit your bitching and keep your eyes open," I said, a little rougher than intended. _So close now, _I kept thinking. I could all but smell the wine I'd poured down the bitch to make this possible. Tiff didn't seem taken aback by the tone I'd used. Thick skinned, that one.

"Take a right here. She has a whole suite here on the south side of the house," she directed, nearly matching my tone. "And you keep up," she all but growled at her handcuffed and gagged uncle, who she was stealthily dragging along by a grip on one ear. He looked clearly pained, but one death-glare from each of us plus Spitpyre had quieted him back in his own room.

"Gotcha. 'Pyre, keep your talons up," I whispered. The fighting bird didn't bother to huff at me, he just stepped more lightly. The too-loud to my overly hyped hearing tap of his footsteps ceased. Say what you will about how brazen and hot-headed Blaziken are, if you train them right that cushion of feathers makes for excellent sneaking. "Tiff, what sort of defenses are we looking at up ahead?" I was lucky as hell that I'd managed to make an ally out of the ex-Aqua. She'd been able to point out several alarms I might have otherwise tripped on the route to the quarters of Arabella and her higher level subordinates.

"Not a clue. I've never been in her suite before, she always accepted reports and handed out orders in her office. I've heard about the layout of her suite from one of the Galactics who got stuck keeping the place clean when she's out on business, like when you found the Survival Area base, but never actually been there." Great, for all I knew I was walking into another ambush.

"Goody. Didn't want this to get too boring," I sighed. I kept a hand on my sword and kept creeping down the hall in spite of my desire to sprint forward. _So close now. Almost got her._

"Shut up before you jinx us again you doof," she glared at me. The repetitions of _so close_ and _gotcha now bitch_ and so on inside my head fouled my thinking for a moment before I remembered the incident on the way back from our visit with Cresselia. I gave her a grin of acknowledgment as we stopped in front of a heavy security door.

Oh, it was as fine and fancy as everything else in the big old house, but I'd seen enough fortified doors to know one on sight. It looked a lot like mine, actually, though the rich maple shell might have hidden its nature a bit better than my more obvious choice. Sadly, even heavy steel doors aren't all that secure without all the pesky security fittings. At my urging, Tiff called out her Lanturn and directed the big fish through freezing each lock with Ice Beam. Then, moving ever so carefully, Spitpyre would tap them with a single talon, shattering them with a soft crack. I held my breath after each of the six locks cracked, waiting for the alarm to sound.

Oh, other means of bypassing the locks were open to us. Spitpyre could have melted the locks into slag in seconds, but that risked starting a fire. It would have been much quicker, but not the best way to be sneaky. Given time I might have been able to pick the locks, though at least one of them looked fancy enough to be potentially beyond my ability. But that would have taken much longer, more risk of one of the doctors on the other side of the floor spotting us should one decide to head downstairs. With the whole suite to herself and her bed beyond the dressing room inside (assuming Tiff's intel was reliable), this seemed like the best compromise between speed and silence.

After bypassing the last lock, Tiff called her Lanturn back into her ball and replaced her with a dopey looking but friendly Slowbro. The big pink Pokémon looked to her for instructions at once, seemingly not even noticing me but reacting appreciably quickly for his species when Tiff signaled him to keep the Shelder attached to his tail up high and off the hardwood floor.

"Alright, we're gonna try to go in quiet and snag the target," I reminded my allies in my all-business voice. "But if any alarms get raised, we hit whoever is inside fast and hard. Take 'em down quick, grab the target, and then smash the wall out to take off via flight. Then we gotta get word of this operation to someone we trust on the double so the rest of these people can get taken down and sorted out. But whether we can fix this place or not, we get the target and get gone in a hurry. I am _not_ getting my ass kicked in like when they caught me."

"Course not," Tiff giggled softly. "They don't have me and my big bad Gastrodon to flatten you this time." I gawked at her briefly, not having made the connection before.

"That was _you?_" I was more shocked than angry. Then I lifted an eyebrow in thought and smirked at her. "You owe me a new lighter and a pack of cigs. Possibly my PokéGear too, but the lighter comes first." We shared a quiet laugh. Spitpyre and even the Slowbro (who I later learned was named Bazooka Joe) just stared at us like we were fools. Like I said, the lady had a point when she called me crazy. "Alright, get ready. And whatever you do, don't kill or mind-wipe Arabella," I intoned sternly to everyone present. Partly to myself. _So close. I fucking _gotcha_ now._

The door opened smoothly on well oiled hinges as I eased it outward into the hallway, easing icy shards of metal out of place and pocketing them silently before they could slip free and clatter all over the floor. As the thick steel and maple door swung slowly towards us, I held up a hand to keep Spitpyre from slipping inside. The moment the door had cracked, a loud rumbling had met my ears. Snoring. Loud, abrasive snoring. From a throat that sounded absolutely filled with phlegm.

I peeked around the door frame, and saw what I had expected. A Swalot, less than a foot shorter than myself and almost my own weight. Its beady yellow eyes were hidden within the folds of its blobish purple skin, shut tight in sleep, and its barbels drooped. I could see runnels of venomous drool leaking from its wide, snoring mouth with every breath it took. That accounted for the sticky wet sound of it snores. I stepped back and motioned for my friends to look as well, putting a finger to my lips to remind them of our need for silence.

So, Arabella was trusting her Swalot to guard her chambers. The very same Swalot she had once threatened to feed me to, on the day we first met. If I'd been doing what my raging temper demanded of me and charging into battle, I could put it down easily enough. As a pure Poison-type, the big lump of stomach would go down with ease to Maiden's Ground moves, and as a Steel type she'd be immune to its Poison techniques even if it got a shot off. Spitpyre could burn it alive if need be, though I was worryingly short on antidotes for such a venture. And of course, Tiff could ask her Slowbro to turn its Psychic-type powers upon the beast, always an unpleasant experience for a Poison-type Pokémon.

But I _wasn't_ charging forward with abject violence in mind. I was sneaking in quietly. And Maiden's methods, while effective, would not be quiet. Bazooka Joe could probably have been more stealthy with his Psychic attack, provided he didn't use anything overly flashy, but even if he smashed it in a single shot the Swalot would have time for a death cry.

"I don't suppose your Slowbro there has Dream Eater?" I whispered as softly as I could and still be heard over the snoring Swalot.

"Nope, Joe here never learned that one. They wouldn't let me use Yawn, since they didn't want me catching more mons for myself, so it didn't seem useful. Shoulda known better," she shook her head.

Crap, there went any chance of taking the thing down without waking it up. Maybe we could just tiptoe past it and grab Arabella, then make her recall the freaking thing. I signaled the gang and headed in, managing my sword carefully. I certainly didn't want to go tipping something over in the dark, even if the blob did seem to be so deeply under that a herd of Rapidash could stampede through and not wake it up.

I was halfway across the spacious dressing room when one yellow eye popped open and the Poison Bag Pokémon seemed to grin. I realized the obnoxious snoring must have been an act just as it hocked up a mouthful of purplish gunk and spat it at me.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10: Smash and Grab

I drew my sword, yanking the saya back to clear the blade as fast as I was capable. Luckily for me, I practice. Also lucky for me, the Swalot was rather slow, as its species often is. The sword came loose fast, swiping up in a high parry that intersected the flight path of the sticky goop at just the right moment to keep it from splashing me full in the face. Luckiest of all for me, my katana was expertly made from steel plates donated by my Steelix. It still carried the Steel-type immunity to poison. I've seen Poison-type attacks do horrible things to regular metals.

Since I was lucky on those three counts, I survived the experience, and even managed to flick the blob up onto the ceiling away from Tiff or the Pokémon. Since I didn't hear the tell-tale chewing and popping sounds of a corrosive at work, I guessed the Swalot had fired off Gunk Shot at me. I swept Tiff to the side, keeping my now slimy sword in a mid-level guard in case of further shots. Gunk Shot is not something you take lightly, being one of if not _the_ most instantly damaging Poison-type technique known. Not something you want to so much as drip on you.

I was raising my hand, having gotten Tiff out of the way of further attacks, hoping to signal an attack that would put the thing down fast, when it warbled and belched a loud warning cry. A shrill feminine voice called out in alarm from the door further across from us. And with the door still open, it was likely we'd hear more company coming momentarily.

"The sneaky approach just never fucking works anymore!" I said to no one in particular as Spitpyre took the initiative, launching his signature Double Kick at the wailing Swalot. The high power kicks would have leveled many a Pokémon, but aside from a mild grunt his current opponent hardly seemed to notice the twin impacts against its rubbery hide. "That ain't gonna work big guy, it resists Fighting techniques! Duck!" I called out as the Swalot rotated on its base, orienting on my Blaziken hungrily. But that wasn't why I wanted him out of the way.

Tiff had tapped her Slowbro on the head and pointed, nothing more. But stupid as its breed is known to be, Bazooka Joe was clearly also well trained. He stomped forward, forehead beginning to sparkle with mental energy, before slamming into the Swalot just above my frantically ducking Blaziken. This time the Poison-type noticed, shrieking in distress as the Zen Headbutt slammed home.

"We've got this thing, go!" Tiff pushed me toward the door to what I presumed would be the bedroom proper, already feeding more instructions to her Pokémon. I stumbled, torn. I didn't want to leave her battling a Swalot of a high enough level to know Gunk Shot and trying to hold the door against any reinforcements alone... but... _so close. So close now. Right through that door..._

I went to the door and stood to the side of it, and gave Spitpyre a nod. He kicked the door off its hinges with Blaze Kick, setting the much flimsier door aflame even as it splintered. No sense getting caught by anything on the other side again. Reckless as hell, considering I was supposed to be keeping the prey alive? Yes. Awesome way to make an entrance despite that? _Hell_ yes.

Spitpyre at least remembered our mission, he'd shattered the door into several pieces of flaming wreckage but held back substantially. Rather than rocketing across the room as a cloud of burning shrapnel, the remains of the door largely fell to the floor within a few feet, with only enough force to break a few bones rather than impale anyone standing too close. As it turned out, he needn't have bothered. I caught a glimpse of Arabella at the window to the right of her bed, dressed in an all but transparent pink nightgown and a bandolier of some sort. Then a flash of light blinded me as she called something out of a Pokéball. The next thing I knew, I was seeing a pair of purple wings beating madly and dropping quickly out of sight. I hurried forward, watching as she used a Golbat like a parachute to drop to the ground below safely. I suppose I was lucky once again, lucky that she hadn't been able to evolve the creature into a Crobat and thus couldn't just fly away at once. Lacking the extra two wings that would come with evolution, the bloodsucker could only slow her descent.

"Tiff, get in here, we got a prob-" I was cut off when someone tackled me to the floor. I barely managed to get my sword out to the side, preventing it from injuring me or the soft female form on my back. I knew it for Tiff at once, none of Arabella's goons would have stopped the beam of energy that went soaring out the window from stunning me with its passing. "That her Swalot, was it?"

"Yeah, it was backing up headed this way. I saw it dematerializing and figured you'd want to avoid that kind of headache," she responded as we quickly got to our feet.

"How the hell did it live long enough to get recalled?" I asked, looking out the window. Arabella had hauled the bouncer out the front door by the arm and was issuing angry instructions while her Golbat flitted about in agitated circles.

"She must have shoveled a metric ton of HP Ups and iron down its throat when it was young," she responded impatiently, watching the door behind us with a hand resting comfortingly on Joe's head. "We were about to switch to special attacks instead of physical techniques when it made its escape."

"Well, it isn't getting away for long. 'Pyre, get ready," I growled, stepping up onto the wide window. Spitpyre was right beside me, snarling, so angry the windowsill began to smolder under his feet.

"Wait, what the hell are you doing?" Tiff demanded, turning towards us with an dumbfounded look.

"It's only two stories. I've done worse," I responded dismissively. Which was true. Though to be fair, I'd hurt my leg quite badly doing so. "Big Bird's wings are too wide to go out through here, and carrying us she couldn't lift off before we hit the ground anyway if she went through with them folded," I explained at her continued incredulous look. "Follow us on Pete when you can, we might need some air support." And with that, we jumped sword and blazing talons held high and ready to strike, and gave our best battle cry together. Spitpyre's was better, though not for lack of trying on my part. It was still him that Ms. Ragno and her lackey looked at, skin paling. The bouncer didn't react well, standing there looking at the raging Blaziken in shock.

Arabella, on the other hand, wasn't in charge for nothing, and she had a Flying-type at the ready. With a sharp cry and gesture she sent the Golbat into a murderous charge straight at Spitpyre. There wasn't much I could do about that, what with the free-fall and all, so I only peripherally noticed as it slammed into him in a flurry of leathery wings, using Aerial Ace in order to strike before he hit the ground and threatened its master.

My main focus was on landing halfway decently. Literally. I only managed halfway, my knees crackling painfully from the impact, because I brought my sword down in a diagonal slash as I went rather than properly absorbing the force. Having divided my attention between those two tasks, I botched my slice a bit as well. The bouncer (who I idly noted was not the same man who had been on duty when I brought Arabella home) died just fine, but not due to my expert blade work. I just barely nicked him across the chest, a shallow gash that bled quite well but wouldn't be so much as a minor hindrance in a fight. He jumped back, even taking a credible fighting stance on the balls of his feet... and then dropped to the ground seizing and foaming at the mouth.

Like I said earlier, Gunk Shot is hardcore tough. Not something a human should mess around with. I didn't linger to monitor his vitals, but I doubt he lived more than a few minutes if that.

I ducked, wincing as pain shot up both my calves and a deep ache started throbbing in my knees and ankles. The Golbat swooped just over my head, stirring errant strands of hair that had long since escaped my ponytail. My legs held me up, if somewhat less than willingly. I got a look at the foe as it circled, and saw a small burn on one of its wings. I wasn't the only one with pained limbs, it seemed. That bat wouldn't be flying for long. Spitpyre stepped up beside me, limping slightly from his own midair hijinks. I doubt he had much trouble with the landing, but Flying-types are quite good at injuring Fighting-types. Especially in midair with no room to maneuver.

"Golbat, Air Slash that chicken and put it down now!" Arabella cried out in a rage, pulling another Pokéball from the bandolier she had slung over one shoulder and flinging it. Out of the flash of energy, a Sandslash materialized. Shit. My best bet to put the bat down fast was Lucky, and here she was bringing out a Ground-type. I was scrambling for a ball as the Golbat swooped in close, wings beating forcefully enough to form a blade of air with a touch of its Flying-type power. Already weakened, it would surely take Spitpyre down if not kill him outright.

I heard the blade of air thunk home before I could turn, a scream of denial already on my lips. In my quest to avenge my first Pokémon, had I gotten my second killed as well? The scream died on my lips as a fierce grin formed on my face instead. Standing between the Golbat and Spitpyre was Bazooka Joe. The attack had drawn a little blood, but the Slowbro wouldn't even feel it for a few seconds still, and the bright pink Water/Psychic-types are built like tanks. They take a lot of punishment to put down.

"Damn it!" the ex-Rocket hissed in frustration. And then, without another word, she turned and sprinted away from us. The Golbat followed at once, while the Sandslash surged forward with its claws flared menacingly. Tiff wasn't around to command Joe, I could hear her calling instructions to her Gastrodon back in the room above, apparently dealing with more intruders. And the Slowbro wasn't going to react to the threat fast enough to save me on its own. So, I dealt with it the best way I knew how. I gave it a face-full of angry Sharpedo, calling out a command even as the ball left my fingers.

"Bruce, Waterfall!" The big shark obliged, already coated in water from nose to jet as he solidified right in the Sandslash's face, charging through the air with the same technique that lets him swim straight up waterfalls to the top. The sand dwelling shrew took the hit full in the face, flying back from the watery impact with a sound somewhere between a splash and a thud. It struggled weakly to rise, clawing at the ground as if trying to use Dig. "Crunch," I commanded without pity, tracking Arabella as she drew away. Bruce wasted no time finishing his downed opponent. Between the sea food I'd fed him earlier and this latest foe, he was at least well fed.

I called him back and tried to step forward after Arabella, but my legs weren't up to running and she already had a hell of a lead, headed out of town towards the main street and from there to Route 218, the only way out of town on foot. Since I couldn't chase her the old fashioned way, I cheated.

Let me tell you something, there is a reason people don't try to ride Luxray very often. It is not in any way fun, especially since they would never consent to wear a saddle even if you could get one that fit. Double that when you've just done something rather foolish to your pins, which you have clasped around the electrical feline's waist for dear life since you can't safely grab hold of its mane for stability. On the other hand, it is _fast_. So if you have a good enough reason, its totally worth it.

We shot out of the tunnel connecting Canalave with Route 218 like a bullet, skidding to a screeching halt just shy of accidentally bounding into the brackish water separating the island from the main body of Sinnoh. I gratefully stepped off of the panting big cat and gave him a grateful scratch under his muzzle before turning to contemplate my quarry.

The only way across the body of water was by Surf or by Flight. I knew Arabella lacked a Pokémon capable of flight, and was fairly certain she'd be similarly lacking in aquatic ability. And she'd never risk swimming across at night. Even running in terror from me, she'd be smarter than that. Which meant she had to be hiding on this side, in the woods to one side or the other of the tunnel.

The trees were thick and close together, with any number of hollows, burrows, and rocks strewn amongst them to hide in. Even with Lucky's x-ray vision, it could take a good long while to find anyone in there. And Tiff hadn't caught up yet. I didn't want to leave her fighting alone back at the brothel, but I could hardly afford to give my target a chance to find some means of slipping away unseen. I set Bruce at the entrance to the tunnel, his fang filled maw set to guard it, and slipped into the trees on my right with some effort, Lucky leading the way.

We headed straight through, or as close to as I could manage considering the dense swatch of dark woods. With the trees so thick and the time of night, Eterna Forest was a sunshine filled meadow by comparison. I had to keep an eye on Lucky's lightly flickering tail to find my footing. Coming to the other side, we began creeping along the shore. If I wanted to hide from pursuit, I'd have gone all the way through to prevent even the slightest chance of being spotted from the path.

Considering my poor ability with infiltration of late, it came as little surprise when we found nothing. We made a few circuits of the woods, and kept on finding nothing. _So CLOSE, SO CLOSE_ the thought blazed in my head. We had her, we _had_ her. She could _not_ escape me now.

I was moving on to the other side when Lucky's head tilted, back the way we had come. He seemed to hear something I could not. Something like a Golbat's sonar, I thought. I watched him as he tilted his head this way and that, tracking the sound attentively. He set out back the way we had come, stalking low to the ground and glaring at me with luminous eyes when my boot found a fallen branch in the dark before setting out again.

Suddenly, I could hear the sonar too. That was bad. I could almost see the distortion in the air as the extremely potent sound rang out, barely perceptible to me but no doubt highly painful to my Luxray. He shook his head rapidly, letting out his brassy roar involuntarily as his eyes suddenly glazed over in confusion as the Golbat's Supersonic took effect, scrambling his thoughts and unbalancing him by way of his inner ear. I could hear a soft feminine laugh from nearby, but the echoes in the trees kept me from locating the source.

I was reaching for my Pokéballs to recall Lucky and let him sort out his thoughts in his artificial habitat, when a rough impact sent me to my knees, my sword bouncing out of my hand. I rolled to my left, barely clearing a stiff little oak sapling somehow growing there, and glimpsed the Golbat pulling up from the dive it had hit me out of. It'd have broken my back if had wanted, but it had tried to bite me again, fangs rolling off the sleeve of my coat. I suppose it liked the little taste of my blood it got during our first encounter.

"Lucky, fry the damn thing!" I yelled as I came to a shaky stand. The tumble hadn't done my bite-wound any good, nor my aching legs. I realized my mistake too late, as Lucky's eyes tried to focus and he charged ahead, apparently trying to Thunder Fang his adversary despite it being a good twenty feet away already. Instead he rammed himself face-first into the nearest tree. Fucking confusion.

Before I could call out more instructions or recall the groggy Luxray, the Golbat fell out of the sky overhead, wings slamming into the sides of his head again in a Wing Attack that, while Lucky resisted, still sent him slumping back to the ground in a daze. At this rate I was going to lose Lucky. Again. I scooped up my sword and started fishing for Lucky's ball in my coat.

When the enemy circled around for another attack, I managed a credible lunge on my protesting right leg and thrust my blade at the darting shadow. It veered off with an angry chirp, as I'd known it would. I could never catch an alert Flying-type even if I was moving at full speed, but it bought me time to get Lucky to safety, exchanging him for 'Scicle. The arctic chill pouring off the little Glaceon told me he was flat out enraged, and his sing-song cry sounded much more menacing than he normally could manage. That was good, we needed that kind of attitude right now.

"Watch for it little guy. I wanna see an Ice Beam the moment it comes into view," I said, taking my eyes off the sky to scan the woods around us. "Hey, Arabella! Not enjoying this date as much as our last one baby?" I called out mockingly. I heard the faintest sound of rustling leaves off to my left, as if someone had shifted their weight forward in anger. "Come on, can't we do this face to face? We had so much fun planned together. Sure, we had different ideas of fun, what with you being a perverted little tramp, but-" she cut me off, as I'd hoped she would.

"Fuck you!" she all but screamed, and I glimpsed her silhouette back towards the path to Canalave as she threw two more balls overhand simultaneously. I hadn't even managed to take down her freaking Golbat yet, and now it had turned into a triple-battle. I could take comfort in that her bat was wounded and probably close to fading by now, and having dealt with her Sandlash, but that comfort was rather cold since I wasn't sure how many Pokémon she had with her aside from the bat and the Swalot.

I moved quickly, calling 'Scicle to run alongside me until we stood on the open path where I had at least some light from the moon to work with. The vicious Glaceon put himself between me and the trees, watching intently as the Swalot and Golbat emerged, joined now by a Houndour. I evened the odds for myself, sending out Spitpyre once more.

"No, see, that was _your_ plan." I laughed in the general direction I had last seen Arabella in. "The only place our ideas on how to have fun together might intersect involves handcuffs." I crouched as the Houndour started howling. It was psyching itself up to increase its attack power, preparing to throw itself at us.

"You stupid little shit," I heard Ms. Ragno seething from nearby. "I've killed people for less insult than this. And you didn't even think to send out a third Pokémon, you make it so easy! Houndour, kill the Glaceon, Swalot, you take the Blaziken! Golbat, use that Rawst berry I gave you and get rid of that burn already!" I kept laughing. She was in charge for a reason alright, she was quick and decisive and efficient. And a wee bit inattentive. She was a Rocket, after all.

"Bruce, Aqua Jet the mutt!" I called out through my laughter, and from back by the tunnel Bruce fired up his jet once again. The Houndour was caught by the high pressure stream in mid-leap, just as it was igniting its flames for a Fire Fang attempt. The flames went out with a hiss of steam as the little canine went ass over end. It wasn't dead, but clearly it was down. Good, it was still a puppy and might not be too vicious to rehabilitate. Even as that happened, I commanded my other two Pokémon over Arabella's frustrated cursing. "Spitpyre, Earthquake! 'Scicle, I wanna see that Ice Beam already!"

'Scicle was faster, firing off his burst of super-chilled energy. The Golbat, expecting its ally to be covering, was hovering in place as it chomped down on its berry. The Ice Beam struck it dead center. The bloodsucker's wings iced over almost at once, the venom droplets and berry juices staining its fangs crystallized a moment later, and a frozen corpse plummeted out of the air and crunched on the roots below.

Meanwhile, the Swalot had been acting on its orders and spat another gob of purple slime at Spitpyre. The Gunk Shot slammed home in the center of his mass, just as he was raising his right foot into the air. The force of the poisonous blow spun him to the side, and the ripple of earth passed far afield of its target. Its difficult to miss a landlocked opponent with Earthquake, but it does happen. Spitpyre cried out in pan, and I remembered he'd been limping after his encounter with the Golbat earlier. He shook off the attack and flexed his talons, eyes narrowing into a glare. I watched his movement, and thankfully he didn't appear to be poisoned.

"Damn it all Swalot we're losing!" I could see Arabella more clearly now, having backed out of the woods and ended up on one of the fishing piers that attracted so many anglers during the day. She was retrieving one more ball, a Luxury model, the last on her bandolier. She was down to two mons, and while Lucky was probably still loopy I hadn't yet lost one.

"It's six against two here. Think it over in that pretty little head of yours lady. Give up now, and it'll be far easier on everyone," I said. I wasn't sure I wanted her to give up, not really. But I'd have accepted her surrender, if she had.

"Swalot, Stockpile!" she called out, still holding the Luxury Ball against her breasts like a security blanket. If I knew anything about this woman, it probably had a Gloom in it, something easily beaten by fully half my team. "Again!" she cried out as the Poison Bag sucked in more and more foliage, soil and stone from the ground and trees around it. "Now Swallow, then attack with your own Earthquake!"

The Swalot gulped down the enormous mouthful of random scenery it had been chewing and bounced upward, thundering against the ground as it fell back to earth before I could order 'Pyre or 'Scicle to act. The ground shook forcefully, though not quite so strongly as Spitpyre's attempt had caused. I was out of the line of fire, thankfully, but both 'Scicle and Spitpyre took the attack full force without a chance to evade, preempt, or counterattack. Spitpyre was coated in a fine layer of soil as roots ripped their way free of the ground and the shaking staggered him about. He collapsed, coughing out a beak full of dirt. It hadn't quite been lethal, by the barest margin. Had the foe been a Ground-type, he'd not have been so lucky. 'Scicle didn't fare much better despite his type being less weak to Ground techniques. He just wasn't as old or strong as Spitpyre. Despite retaining consciousness by a thread, the little fox staggered to the side and collapsed, helpless.

"Bruce!" I called back to my shark, resisting the urge to call for Surf and sweep the bitch and her little pet off the beach and into the ocean. I still needed them alive. And Spitpyre was in his line of fire for such a large scale attack. "Get over here and Crunch this stupid thing!"

The huge Sharpedo was hopping towards the conflict, leaping forward with burst of water from his jet, when Arabella's last ball suddenly soared into the air. And it turned out I was wrong. It wasn't a Gloom after all.

It was a Vileplume. And it immediately focused in on Bruce, red eyes glinting, noxious stench blowing in the mild breeze coming in off the sea. Ok, so I'd expected a slightly weaker Grass-type, but this wasn't all that much worse. Except my Fire and Ice-types were currently laying on the ground, so weak even this normally minimal threat could probably finish them easily. And the Swalot was still up and fighting. I still had a shot at this, but it had to be now. If it was decently trained, and I suspected it would have to be for Arabella to have bothered evolving it, the Vileplume could easily take down Bruce and Iron Maiden. It could handle Lucky too with a bit more difficulty, even if he wasn't so injured from confused mishaps and Golbat beatings as to be half done or more. That left Big Bird. I threw her ball, not even taking the time to call my injured team members back. I had to take the carnivorous plant down now. No waiting.

"Vileplume, Petal Dance!" Arabella yelled triumphantly even as I was calling out "Big Bird use Pluck, Bruce use Ice Fang!" The Pokémon all surged forward on the attack, Bruce's jaws frosting over, but the Vileplume was faster, if only just. A spray of foul smelling petals surged outward from the Grass-type's blossom, many flying directly into Bruce's mouth and out his gills. The shark pitched backward in pain and dropped like a stone, blood leaking steadily from his open maw.

He was dying. I could save him, maybe, with one of the more potent medicines in my bag. A Full Restore at the least. And he'd need it fast. I didn't think Arabella would allow me to get close enough. For a moment my mind went blank. Even the constant repetitions of _so close_ choked off to nothing.

Big Bird had already heard her orders. And even if she hadn't, the shriek of absolute blood-lust she released as she surged at the Vileplume told me she'd have attacked even if I ordered her not to. She hammered her beak against the toxic flower, snapping and pecking, even stealing the berry it held in its leafy limbs as she was trained to do when Plucking the foe. The Vileplume staggered back, crying out in pain but alive. The attack hadn't felled it.

"Big Bird, finish it!" I said, drawing Maiden's ball and throwing it like a fast-ball to streak over the battlefield. Big Bird shrieked again... and somehow managed to smash herself in the face with her own wing. "Oh you have got to be kidding me!" I yelled in frustration as the Vileplume reared up and shook its head vigorously, spreading glittering red pollen all about. Big Bird had just tried unsuccessfully to orient herself on the foe, missing wildly and smashing her beak into a stone, when she inhaled the powder and went stiff as a board. Stun Spore. My bird was confused, paralyzed, and considering how strong she was on the attack compared to her strength at taking a hit probably mostly done. Fuck. Even the sight of Maiden emerging didn't even that out, not with the damned plant still up and fighting. I threw Lucky's ball, desperately hoping he'd be clear headed again.

"What was it you said?" Arabella gloated at her come back. "Give up, it'll be easier on everyone? Sound advice. For you. Give up and I _might_ kill you outright," she sneered. "Vileplume, if he calls any command other than surrender, kill the Luxray at once." Maiden wasn't even listening or waiting for instructions, she'd focused on the Swalot and taken the offensive right off the bat with Rock Tomb, trying to pin it down. That might or might not set off the Vileplume, I didn't know. At least the Swalot was too busy to gang up on Lucky.

"Lucky," I said slowly, somberly. I was gambling on Bird having done enough damage for an ineffective attack to take the Vileplume down. And on Lucky's speed. "Hit it as hard as you can boy." The big cat's eyes lit up and he pounced, slamming into the opponent with Wild Charge.

Huge arcs of electricity crackled and struck out at the Vileplume, followed shortly by Lucky himself as he drove his body and every volt he had into the Grass-type's belly. He floored it, shocking and clawing in a frenzy. The recoil from the potent technique knocked him cold. But he took the Vileplume with him. Betting on a Luxray's speed is a pretty safe bet.

"Maiden! Don't hold back, smash that fat fucker flat," I spat in the direction of the battle still waging between my last Pokémon and Arabella's last line of defense. "Lemme see an Iron Tail big girl!"

"Forget the Steelix, kill the trainer!" Arabella screamed. I'm not sure if it was some final defiance, or an attempt at strategy, or both. What I am sure of is that the Swalot turned to me and blasted a jet of Poison Gas that easily stretched all the way to me. I had just yelled loudly to my Pokémon. I was taking a breath as the gas hit me. The last thing I remember before hitting my head on a tree root was a sound not unlike a big man stomping a melon.

I wasn't out long. Tiff caught up, and I had just enough Antidotes left in my pack to bring me around before I died and hold me over until I got some real medical attention. She saved my life twice over from that damned Swalot, once with those antidotes, once by drawing a lot of fire during her initial battle with the bloated sack of puss. If it had had enough power left to hit me with Gunk Shot, I'd have never woken up.

She tended to Bruce first. I'm not surprised, she is an ex-Aqua grunt. And she knew I'd want him healed first. It was touch and go for the big fish even after he got his restoratives, but he made it thanks to her.

Tiff didn't go near Arabella though. Maiden wouldn't let her. No more than she would let Arabella escape from her Bind technique. Thinking me dying, she'd wrapped the fool Rocket in her coils and begun to ever so slowly crush her. It took me three tries to get her attention and call her off, by which time Ms. Ragno was turning as red as her Rocket insignia. Being well versed in apprehension of criminal types, Maiden kept a tight hold on her legs until I got a set of handcuffs on her.

I don't remember much beyond that. Tiff had Pete, and only Pete, still up to snuff after the fight she'd had to wage to get out of Canalave. She initially headed North, herded away from me by a wave of angry grunts. She took advantage of it to draw Arabella's help off me, but it had left her Pokémon battered and kept her from helping me during my own battle. With some clever hit and run tactics and fortuitous use of a smoke ball, she escaped to find me and Bruce just in time. She got Big Bird unlocked from her paralysis using another of my Full Restores once we had Arabella secured. Then we recalled my Pokémon and Arabella's Houndour, and set off away from the pissed off criminals searching Canalave for us and their boss. And to find a phone to call Looker.

In mid-flight, everything got rather blurry. All I remember from there are soft brown and gray feathers, and a reassuring call, as if to say we were flying straight. We were going home. 


	11. Chapter 11

Epilogue: One Down

I might have felt like I was headed home before I conked out the night I caught Arabella Ragno, ex-Rocket and all around bitch. But I woke up in a hospital bed in Veilstone City. I looked groggily to my left, and smiled weakly at Tiff standing side by side with my diminutive mentor, Maylene. They weren't watching over me very closely, instead petting and doting on my Staraptor. And feeding her poffins. I scowled slightly at the intrusion, but decided she had earned it. Then I looked to my right... and smiled weakly at Tiff kneeling alone, scratching Lucky behind the ears.

"Ok," I rasped out, "which one of you is Looker?" It hurt to talk, but seeing them jump was worth it. Making them aware I was awake and could sip some ice water was definitely worth it. And making sure Arabella was in custody, being questioned regularly, pretty much made my year.

It turned out the Tiff feeding my bird was actually Looker. Yeah, I guessed wrong too. Once Tiff got me to a hospital, choosing to direct Pete and Big Bird to Veilstone based on some concussed, poison addled ramblings of mine, she called up the cops to report the brothel and the base out in the desert. The desert base had been flagged as my last point of contact, so they kicked it up to Looker. He showed up at once, very relieved to see me and my mons alive and the mission accomplished. Turned out I needed a new PokéGear, his people tracked my signal down again just in time for it to disappear out at sea. I guess Arabella's people thought of that whole tracking thing and ditched it, just in case. I'd been presumed dead for two days. At any rate, the police had raided the hideouts while I was out cold.

Nothing of significance was found at the desert base, though a number of Pokémon were apparently left behind by mistake. No transmitters left behind with them to study, sadly. While I doubt that whole plot of theirs is over and done with, the loss of their primary scientist, many test specimens, a major source of income, and one of the admins running the project, it should at least be severely set back. The brothel was another story. Most of the personnel there had beat a hasty retreat after their boss vanished as well, but thanks to Tiff's efforts a number of battered individuals and their Pokémon had been captured. The panicking staff had also forgotten the abused Pokémon used in their business, and they had all be recovered. Also, a number of financial records turned up, just as neat and tidy as those in the underground base. Well, once they were picked up from where they'd been tossed in the haste to flee and sorted out. Predictably, all mention of the boss' name had been removed and replaced with the code "XD000" just as indicated by Arabella's appointment book. But, we'd get her to crack eventually. I argued for leaving the Game Corner untouched as a source of intel, but Looker's bosses shut it down. I think they tipped their hand too early in the game, but fuck it. I'll deal one way or another.

Sadly, I was out of the game for a couple of weeks. The antidotes had saved my life, but I hadn't gotten enough of them to purge my system fully and I'd be down with what amounted to pneumonia for a bit. I'd also managed to sprain my left ankle and badly strain my right knee. Not to mention the Golbat bite still searing on my arm and the lump on my head where I'd gone down after the Swalot gassed me. They weren't letting me go home for two solid weeks at least. Still totally worth it. Well, except the docs wouldn't let me smoke until my lungs healed. I went a little stir crazy, but Tiff replaced my lighter (even after I assured her I was just joking) on the day they gave my cigs back so it worked out rather well in the end. She even paid to have my coat dry-cleaned. I have since fully forgiven the Gastrodon assault.

Looker wanted to hire Tiff on as a member of the International Police, which must have come off as very strange to her considering his chosen disguise at the time was still her. He wouldn't take no for an answer either, not until she reminded him that technically she's a reformed criminal and the brass probably wouldn't welcome her on the team. Oh, and could he pretty please not mention that part in his reports? She did this fluttery eyelash thing and he melted. I refrained from laughing. Laughing still hurt at the time. Dude got off light, I'm pretty sure if the cute act hadn't worked she'd have moved on to threats and battles. At any rate, she's taking some time for herself right now. And maybe doing some freelance work when she's ready. I could always use a competent sub-contractor for some of my jobs after all. The world's big enough for one more PokéMercenary, if she wants the job.

My last day at the hospital, as I was taking a drag off my first cigarette in two weeks (I had just been discharged and could have headed home first, but I couldn't wait any more once Tiff gave me my lighter), Looker showed up in his non-disguise clothes. I'd call them normal, but the disguises are more common on him. Unless his "normal" appearance is a disguise too? Looker makes my head hurt. At any rate, he handed me a Pokéball and smirked at me.

"What's this? I've already got all six of mine back," I looked at him quizzically.

"Open it up and you will be seeing," he intoned in that goofy ass way of his. "It is one of the Pokémon recovered from the desert facility that you located for us. I arranged it as a bonus for the work you did on our behalf this time out, yes? And for doing far less damage to the suspect than I had anticipated, though I did not mention that specifically." I kept my mouth shut, lest he learn I'd largely been too unconscious to try hurting her if I'd wanted. The nasty bruises and abrasions Maiden had left her with would have to do.

"Ooook, not weird at all. Let's see what you..." I grinned like a fool when the ball flashed open and revealed a Mareep, one with a distinguishing nick in its right horn where it had caromed off into the woods after being "released" during an ill-fated battle with an Electabuzz. "Aha, so _that's_ where you went. Thanks Looker," I shook the odd cop's hand and called back the little sheep and exchanged it for Big Bird. "C'mon girl, we got a very rich man to see and a little girl to make happy. This should cover all our medical bills and then some."

And so we took flight for Sunnyshore City. I ticked off a check mark on a mental list that hadn't been updated in years as we flew. After all this time, progress.

One down. Two to go. I'll find the other two soon enough, and one of them won't get off so lightly as Ms. Ragno did. And until then? Business is still good.

End

Author's note: So, there we go, the final chapter of the first full length story in the series. Sorry about the long wait between chapters of late, but I think I made up for it tonight (had to do something with that insomnia). Now that we're here, I'm really looking forward to reviews of the story as a whole (I still welcome the chapter by chapter reviews I've been seeing of course).

As for where the series will go from here? I think I'll be taking a break from the main story and doing an intermission of sorts, unrelated to the quest for vengeance that is Devil's primary motivation. Other than that, only time and inspiration will tell!

Thanks for reading, and I'll see you in another story.


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